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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725453">of course, my prince</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/claimedbydaryl/pseuds/claimedbydaryl'>claimedbydaryl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Germa 66, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prince!Sanji, Running Away, Slow Burn, Vinsmoke Sanji Needs a Hug, knight!gin, rated explicit because of the last chap!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:22:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/claimedbydaryl/pseuds/claimedbydaryl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon the death of King Judge, the Germa kingdom's fate is doomed, and the lowly knight Gin does the only thing he can: he helps Sanji, the prince and heir to the throne, escape. In the hopes of a better future—maybe not just for Sanji, but Gin, too—they start a new life together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gin/Vinsmoke Sanji</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prelude: a kingdom's dying breath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this fic is a collab between me and my talented, amazing, beautiful friend sylord (find @ <a href="https://teazingsassy.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/sylords?lang=en">twitter</a>!!!) who did the absolutely mint illustrations for this fic &lt;333 thank u for just always being a total KING and one of my few shining lights of 2020 (❁´‿`❁)*✲ﾟ*</p><p>also I know sanji is a bit OOC but this is a fantasy au and he's lived with his family his whole life so lemme stretch my creative license pls.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The kingdom of Germa had nearly reached the eve of its destruction. That, Gin was sure of as he watched King Judge call for another execution of a member of his court. The reason was unclear—Judge had shouted insubordination, although he had long lost his faculties to make sound claims—but Gin was not focusing on him. Instead, he looked only at Sanji.</p>
<p>Sanji, the prince and prospective heir to the throne. Golden-haired and shining and much too bright for the sordid affairs of his father’s court, who had to sit beside their frenetic king and flinch as another of Germa’s innocent retainers was forced to their knees and their head tipped forward, waiting for the executioner’s blade to fall.</p>
<p>It had been like this for years, and still Sanji’s heart was soft. Gin could barely force himself to acknowledge how intent the world seemed on hardening it. He’d known Sanji since they were teenagers—years and years ago—and hated to see how he had been mistreated. Injustice and cruelty ruled Germa, but Sanji remained resistant to it. Gin knew that Sanji wouldn’t let his family’s poison seep into him.</p>
<p>Something like rage twisted inside Gin’s chest, leftover from when he was much younger and stupider. Now he could control it. He could only watch—that’s all he was allowed to do: to look and see as Sanji closed his eyes. The blade hit its mark and carried through bone and flesh, decapitating its victim. Gin’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword as Sanji’s shoulders hitched inwards, hair falling over his eyes.</p>
<p>Then Judge was rising to his feast, calling for a celebration, a feast to toast this victory. Except, the Vinsmoke household had been starved of such provisions for months on end. They had no fine honeyed meads or game meats or candied fruits to share. With the king’s fleeting sanity, and their finances pooled into experiments for strengthening the military and bankrupting their kingdom, the only thing left to do was wait for its downfall.</p>
<p>They’d maybe had a chance of surviving, once. Crown Prince Portgas D. Ace of the Goa kingdom had offered a political alliance, but Judge had refused. All the stirrings of hope inside Gin then were put to their final death when he heard the news.</p>
<p>The sun was setting on Germa, ready to cast it into darkness.</p>
<p>But Gin wasn’t going to let Sanji be swallowed up by that abyss. Not when he could still be at his side, protecting Sanji as he had always done. That made Gin’s existence worth living. It had to.</p>
<p>Judge was talking aloud, to himself or someone else, Gin didn’t know, but thankfully he strode forward and out of the throne room without addressing Sanji. They could hardly predict what he was going to do most of the time—and Sanji deserved none of it.</p>
<p>Blowing out a relieved breath, Gin stepped out of his position standing against the walls. After years as a knight, he’d recently taken up duties of a guardsmen once half of the Vinsmoke ménage had been killed, defected, or gone mad themselves. The meagre remaining members of the court filed out, muttering quietly amongst each other, the air near silent with a fragile anxiety.</p>
<p>“My prince,” Gin said, taking a knee before Sanji. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Not even the thick padding of his armour could protect Gin from bearing the wound of seeing Sanji’s gaze flicker up to his face, dark and pained. Gin ached for the genuine warmth he’d seen reflected there when they’d first met.</p>
<p>“Let’s go, Gin,” Sanji whispered.</p>
<p>Knowing an explanation wasn’t needed, Gin offered his arm to Sanji. He seemed so small compared to the other chairs arranged around Judge’s large, intimidating throne. Another testament to the damage the king had wreaked on his family, as well as the kingdom.</p>
<p>Princess Reiju had avoided being one of her father’s experiments, begging off the strange elixir he’d concocted in the name of progress. She was saved, but her brothers weren’t. The bulk of Germa’s military had already succumbed to the experiment’s trials, making them more animal than human, losing all sense of who they were. It worked in warfare, however not when there were no wars to fight. Mad with some contorted sense of self-righteous power, Judge had wanted to make his children just as powerful, even if the commonfolk were already half-mad. Ichiji had been killed in the midst of a murderous rage; Niji had thought he could fly and fell from the palace’s ramparts; and Yonji was now on his deathbed, body on the verge of giving out. Sanji—deemed too weak to be worth the experiment—had fortunately been spared and was instead left as Judge’s only remaining male heir to his dying kingdom.</p>
<p>Gin hurried to escort Sanji from the court, feeling his hand tighten its grip around Gin’s arm. Yearning twinged in Gin’s heart, longing to reach out and touch Sanji, to offer some form of comfort. Yet he couldn’t. That would be wrong.</p>
<p>“He’s getting worse,” Sanji blurted out when they’d made it a fair distance away. The palace halls stretched out long and tall, with tapestries ripped from the walls and furniture layered in dust. They were the only people there; they were ghosts.</p>
<p>Gin sighed. “I know.”</p>
<p>“Do you think he’s ever going to stop?”</p>
<p>He couldn’t turn his head to meet Sanji’s eyes—there was no way Gin could face that earnest belief that everything would be alright. Sanji would suffer waiting for that faith to be restored. And it tore Gin apart to just let him.</p>
<p>“I don’t think so,” was Gin’s answer. He at least wouldn’t do Sanji the disrespect of lying to him.</p>
<p>Sanji’s fingers slipped from Gin’s elbow. Emotion lodged in Gin’s throat—disappointment, fear, longing? —but he didn’t question it. His job was to serve and protect the prince, silently, like a hollow man crafted from steel and magic to guard him without feeling. It would’ve been so much easier to do that if he hadn’t pledged his life and heart to Sanji from the moment he met him on the palace grounds. The very same feeling smouldering inside his chest then also presided there now, safely kept locked inside his ribcage. Time had not let that emotion wane.</p>
<p>“Look,” Sanji said, abruptly stopping to point out a window.</p>
<p>Gin tried to stay a respectable distance away from Sanji as he followed the line of his finger outside. Across the ailing brown of the palace gardens and the burned rubble, to one of the gates on the west walls. There were gatherings of people there, begging for food or money or anything that Judge had starved them off.</p>
<p>After a moment, Sanji’s back straightened. “They need help.”</p>
<p>“What?” Gin spluttered rather inelegantly.</p>
<p>Turning on his heel, Sanji looked at Gin, chin held high. His royal lineage—the pride and strength in his figure, the command in his presence—was never the more obvious. The gem-studded gold circlet shone across his brow.</p>
<p>“The people of my kingdom need me. I’m all they have.” And there was that unfailing kindness, inherited from his dear, tragic mother.</p>
<p>“But it’s dangerous to go out there!” Gin’s hand clenched around the hilt of his sword again, but tighter. Unyielding. He watched Sanji step back and move with long, brisk strides, probably heading towards the kitchens. Gin couldn’t stop him from doing something so rash, it would be inappropriate. It’d be damning. He’d never trusted himself when he touched Sanji, anyway.</p>
<p>“People are dying, Gin. My subjects.” Sanji spoke without looking back, although they both knew Gin would be following him. That much was always certain. “My father’s useless crusade has left them destitute, without as simple provisions of food or shelter. They need <em>something</em> to believe in.”</p>
<p>“Seeing their prince risk his life and get hurt for them will not let their hearts rest any more easily.”</p>
<p>“Then what is the point of me!” It wasn’t a question: it was a harsh reality spat out between grit teeth. Gin’s eyes traced over the tense line of Sanji’s back, yet he didn’t stop. Sanji kept on walking.</p>
<p>“I can’t guarantee your safety out there,” Gin said, the pitiful words choked out his throat. Playing the part of a stone-hearted, unaffected guardsman was exhausting at times.</p>
<p>“I never asked for your permission, Gin.” The way Sanji spoke, blunt like the flat of a sword slapped across the back of his hands, made Gin’s footsteps falter. His heartbeat thudded dully beneath his skin. Then Sanji was sighing, and he threw a quick smile over his shoulder to Gin, reassuring in its familiarity. “But you promised me you’d always be with me, did you not?”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Gin feared if he blinked, the sight of Sanji would fade from his eyes. Even if Germa was falling apart around them, doomed to destruction, Sanji could still find it in him to smile at Gin.</p>
<p>“Yes, I did,” Gin mumbled, casting his gaze to the ground. He flexed his hands by his sides to relieve that nervous, fluttering tension inside him.</p>
<p>“Then let me help them, Gin. Please.”</p>
<p>There was so much Gin could say: <em>I just want you to be safe; I don’t want to see you get hurt; I care about you</em>. Yet, there was only one answer he could capably give. “Of course, my prince,” he said.</p>
<p>They made their way to the kitchens, like Gin thought they would. Their grain reserves were the only thing that hadn’t completely run dry, so Sanji had made hearty bread loaves the day before.</p>
<p>Most of the food here Sanji had cooked himself. Sanji had forced one of the main chefs and his friend, Zeff, to leave before Judge had truly begun to lose his mind, and since then Gin loathed to see Sanji forced to cook and provide like a servant, toiling away when his father wasn’t looking. Feeding the orphans and the war-widows and the veterans, trying to keep him and his family alive, even if what was left of his siblings wasn’t built from the same materials as him. Sanji cared for others so deeply that it scared Gin.</p>
<p>Still, Gin let Sanji order him about, sorting out what rations they could spare. They packed preserved fruits, oats, stores of nuts, and salted meats—foodstuff that wouldn’t perish quickly.</p>
<p>Then they were setting out, burlap sacks tied over their backs. Whatever patrol tasked to guard the palace grounds didn’t say a word at seeing Sanji and his knight stalking across the papery, dry grass. Gin nodded his head at those he passed by, nerves set on a knife’s-edge. Anything that put Sanji in danger made Gin feel helpless, like a string slowly unravelling from his linen shirt. He had to force himself to ignore the feeling—his job was to serve Sanji, not himself. Only Sanji.</p>
<p>So, he followed his prince to the escape route they’d been using for years, the few remaining guards too unbothered to care when they used it. It was a gutter that tunnelled under the boundary wall, meant for carrying the heavy overflow of rainfall out, but the metal grate at the end had rusted and broken. It was just large enough for a man to slip through. Sanji had shown it to Gin one evening, flushed with the excitement of doing something forbidden. Gin hadn’t the strength to tell him that it wasn’t befitting of a prince; he just liked seeing Sanji happy.</p>
<p>Leaves squelched damply under Gin’s hands as he followed Sanji into a crouch, hunkering down to crawl through the tunnel. He focused on Sanji’s boots in front of him. Gin wouldn’t look up at Sanji when he was bent over like this—he <em>wouldn’t</em>. Sanji would always be his prince, first and foremost, not just some fantasy that Gin liked to indulge in.</p>
<p>Once Sanji had made it to the end of the tunnel, he held his hand out for Gin. It would be so simple to take it, just to feel that spark of contact between them, but Gin couldn’t. He would probably smear more sweat and muck onto Sanji. As Gin stood up, he tried to ignore how Sanji’s expression seemed to draw inwards, his brow creasing at Gin’s rejection. Frustration made Gin’s press into a thin, angry line.</p>
<p>Glancing aside, Sanji moved to walk away, but Gin reached forward, unable to stop himself, the name <em>Sanji</em> curling over his tongue, but he swallowed it down thickly. He didn’t have the position to address him so casually. Sanji would always be out of his reach. He would be Gin’s prince, his precious charge, but never an equal. Never someone Gin could talk to or touch as he wanted to; a fantasy that Gin could only catch the barest glimpses of in these moments of intimacy.</p>
<p>Sanji saw his outstretched hand and slowed to a halt. “What is it?” Sanji asked, his voice pitched low. It was nearly tremoring.</p>
<p>Hand outstretched, Gin could see the stark differences between him and his prince: Sanji’s pristine-clean skin barely marked by dirt and sunshine, his hair bright and yellow like golden silk; and Gin’s grimy fingernails and battered knuckles. He could not touch him and sully that shining beauty. They were worlds apart. The divide between them a yawning maw too large to cross, or maybe Gin was too scared to try.</p>
<p>Whatever it was, Gin didn’t have the luxury to think about it. He cleared his throat as his fingers closed around Sanji’s hood and pulled it up, so it covered his face. He would be too recognisable if people saw more than his eyes. His hand snapped back to his side, suddenly feeling far too empty.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Can’t have people knowing their darling prince is wandering the streets,” Gin said, trying—and failing—to make his tone sound light-hearted. He even crooked the side of his mouth into a miserable attempt at a smile.</p>
<p>Sanji stared at him for just a little too long, as if waiting for something, before shaking his head. He turned away from Gin with a weak reply of, “Where would I be without my knight?” And set off with a steady walk in the direction of the west gates.</p>
<p>Allowing himself one moment to feel pitiful, Gin jogged to catch up with his prince. Always a step behind him. That was his place: at his side, but just out of the way.</p>
<p>The awkward silence remained strained until the first signs of the crowd appeared ahead. Whatever was between them, when Gin was called to protect and watch over Sanji, he never failed. He was his royal guard, after all. That was his duty.</p>
<p>Crowds had littered the entrance to the royal palace. They were piled up together, outnumbering the guards—or what was left of them after Judge’s wars—and too weak to do more than wait or beg at the gates. Biding the last moments of their limited time for some sort of salvation: food, water, weapons, a royal decree telling them to do, a call to usurp the throne, <em>anything. </em>Gin could smell the sickly stink of filth and blood from ugly brawls and whoever had been driven insane by Judge’s cursed elixir.</p>
<p>Gin hovered by Sanji as he started to hand out their rations. Gin dispensed the food he’d packed away, too, but not without making sure no one posed a threat to Sanji. The commonfolk all seemed too exhausted to do anything, though. The people here were more focused on the gift of food they were being blessed with. They offered their heartfelt thanks, hands pressed to Sanji’s, calling out for a million ways to repay him, yet Gin knew Sanji would never accept any. Feeding people for the sake of survival was the first thing Gin had learned about Sanji, anyway. It was how they met.</p>
<p>As a kid, Gin had been starving and desperate, sneaking onto the palace grounds when they were well-tended and green. He meant to steal something worth a few gold coins, or maybe sleep in the stable. Instead he’d stumbled across a little blond-haired princeling. He’d thought Sanji would have him arrested or thrown out, because the Vinsmokes were not famous for their charity, although Sanji was anything but his family’s reputation.</p>
<p>That night, when the springtime air was balmy and sweet, Sanji had taken Gin’s hand and snuck the grubby urchin boy into the kitchens. He’d sat Gin down beside him as he started to prepare food and cook with a practised meticulousness that Gin didn’t think kids—or princes, for that matter—were capable of. It was enthralling. Gin hardly said a word throughout the whole thing, even when Sanji set a bowl down in front of him. Or when Sanji took a seat next to him and started eating, too, laughing when Gin’s stomach grumbled, and asking if it was good, checking if Gin wanted more, or if he would take some back with him. Zeff, the large, stump-legged cook who’d appeared sometime in the early morning, didn’t raise an eyebrow at the spectacle, but he told Sanji to get Gin out of there before anyone else saw.</p>
<p>It was a moment—there, with Sanji—that completely eclipsed everything in Gin’s life. The only future he could ever see was with Sanji, although he seldom did anything to tell him that. Gin, as a commoner, didn’t have a right to those feelings. He almost thought that he hated Sanji for treating him with such kindness, like he was a pitiful thing, but the emotion burning in Gin’s chest was so much more than that. It consumed him so fully that Gin trained to join the palace guard ranks just to see Sanji again.</p>
<p>The first few years were difficult. Soon after Sanji first noticed Gin dressed in the colours of the Vinsmoke, Gin spurned all the friendly approaches he made, and Sanji soon gave up on trying to be Gin’s friend. Except, being hated by Sanji was somehow so much worse than listening to him talk excitedly about recipes or animals he’d rescued in the gardens, always tugging on Gin’s arm. When Queen Sora died, Gin had found Sanji sitting outside under a wild torrent of rain. Lifeless. Cold. The lack of everything—feeling, expression, <em>hope</em>—in Sanji’s face had made Gin realise just how truly stupid he’d been.</p>
<p>No, he didn’t hate Sanji. It was almost the exact opposite of that.</p>
<p>So, Gin worked to regain Sanji’s trust. Speaking openly and friendly to him whenever he could, trying to keep Sanji away from his family, visiting Zeff when he knew Sanji would’ve snuck down into the kitchens. It was a slow process, but seeing Sanji smile at him again for the first time—unrestrained and bright—made it all the worthwhile.</p>
<p>Gin was made a knight of Germa soon after. Then, Judge’s experiments began to wreak havoc on the kingdom, threatening to undo its foundation altogether, and Gin found himself beside Sanji whenever he could be. He was appointed to a palace guard when the deaths started spiking and there was a very real chance Sanji would be the only heir left. Sometimes, Gin wondered what would happen if Judge did die—and then he scrubbed the thought from his mind, unable to process it quite yet.</p>
<p>A shout across the ramparts drew Gin out of his dribbling reverie.</p>
<p>“He’s dead!” Someone—a guard—called out.</p>
<p>Sanji jolted, turning around to catch Gin’s gaze, overwhelmed with a shock that made his entire body freeze. The panic Gin saw in his face made his heart clench, stomach twisting into a tight knot. Then the guard continued, “Prince Yonji is dead! Our new heir to the throne is Prince Sanji, the third son!”</p>
<p>Gin’s body relaxed. Although the people around him were rousing to the news, some outraged and others relieved, what connected them all was the tragedy that pervaded their kingdom. If Judge died, his inheritance would be left to the son he had disavowed in every way he could. And if Sanji died, Germa would be without an heir. The stakes were too high—and the commonfolk knew it.</p>
<p>Chaos was on the rise.</p>
<p>Then Gin saw Sanji’s face, really saw it. A paleness had washed him out, leaving him with that same hollow sickliness he’d had at the announcement of his mother’s death.</p>
<p>“Gin,” Sanji managed to say, words shaking in his mouth like he could barely get them out. “Take me back.”</p>
<p>Reaching forward, Gin took Sanji’s hand, but not before someone had jostled Sanji aside, making his hood fall back. Sanji was lit up amidst the crowd like a candle in the darkness of night. The world stopped. And it was split open again by the cry of, “That’s Prince Sanji! Look, he’s here!”</p>
<p>Yells started to swell up around them, coalescing into a single force. Confusion and anger bled together. Gin put himself in front of Sanji before a throw of mud could land. It splattered across his cheek. An elbow hooked into Gin’s side, a punch slung at his face, and Sanji was pushed into his back, shoved around.</p>
<p>They started running. Gin shouted at Sanji to pull up his hood and they escaped in the disorder of people all melding in together, calling for something—a rebellion, perhaps. An end to the horror they’d endured. Gin would’ve agreed with them if it wasn’t so terrifying.</p>
<p>Gin led Sanji to the gutter they’d come through, finding that, gratefully, no one had followed them.</p>
<p>“Quick,” Gin said, urging Sanji to go through the opening first. He heard voices nearby. A deep-seated fear gripped Gin with such force he couldn’t move, but then Sanji was speaking to him, insistent.</p>
<p>“Gin, come on! I’m not leaving without you.”</p>
<p>He swiftly lowered down to crawl through that broken gate, knowing that there was the danger of people seeing and trailing them. But that didn’t matter right now. All he had to do was keep Sanji safe—with his blade or with his life, it didn’t matter.</p>
<p>They stumbled out onto the grounds. Whatever semblance of order that had been kept inside the palace grounds was unravelling. Guards hastened to the gates to abate the riotous demands of the mob. Servants and nobles were rushing outside, shouting, staring up at something Gin couldn’t quite see. They were in the main courtyard, just beneath the central balcony that Judge used to make announcements from.</p>
<p>Gin and Sanji looked up to find the windows were ablaze with a fire raging inside. Judge was standing at the very edge of the balcony, impaled through the chest with what looked like a blade. Gin’s footsteps faltered, halting. Sanji stilled beside him, gaze trained on the sight before him. They watched as Judge numbly reached for the weapon protruding from his body, coughing up blood. Then he slumped forward, revealing the killer standing behind him.</p>
<p>It was Princess Reiju.</p>
<p>The king of Germa seemed to go slack, his body pitching forward over the railing and crashing into the ground. Sanji turned away at the point of impact, pressing his face into Gin’s shoulder. He intertwined their fingers together.</p>
<p>This was it—there was nothing else to do. Germa was Sanji’s.</p>
<p>“Don’t ever come back here!” Reiju shouted, her voice reverberating across the palace grounds. Maybe the whole kingdom could hear it, too, yet, Gin knew she was only speaking to one person; Reiju had never sneered or belittled Sanji when their family wasn’t around. She’d tried to help, in her own way.</p>
<p>“Run,” Reiju continued, “don’t look back!”</p>
<p>Sanji pulled his head up to look at her. He was nearly sobbing as he watched his sister brandish the weapon that had killed their father, that had finally put their kingdom to rest. Sanji tried to say something, the words gargling in his mouth, but then guards were pulling Reiju back, away from the balcony and she disappeared out of sight.</p>
<p>An awful, pained cry wrenched out of Sanji. “Reiju,” he whispered.</p>
<p>Gin knew then what he had to do. Reiju had given them their only chance of escaping; she’d sacrificed all she had to do it. That was not something that Gin was going to squander.</p>
<p>“Your Highness.” Gin turned to grab him by the shoulders. He needed Sanji to be strong for this, to look at him and understand what was going to happen. “My prince,” Gin repeated, softer, urging Sanji to lift his eyes and find Gin’s. “We have to go. Germa’s dead, and no one expects you to save it. There’s nothing we can do except <em>run</em>.”</p>
<p>“B-but, Reiju—”</p>
<p>“She’s helped us in a way we can never repay. So, right now, we need to honour what she did and leave. Get away to someplace safe, or even to the Goa kingdom—I don’t know.” That was the fact of it: simple and bare. Bleak. “Just anywhere that isn’t here.”</p>
<p>Sanji ran a hand across his nose, sniffing.</p>
<p>“Do you trust me?” Gin asked.</p>
<p>That made Sanji stop, blinking. “Of course, I do.”</p>
<p>“Then come with me. I’ll get you out of here, I promise.”</p>
<p>For a moment, Sanji did nothing. Dread caused Gin’s heart to stop beating altogether. Sanji inhaled, and the shaking that wracked his entire body starting to ease. He stared at Gin with a determination that was very nearly startling in its intensity. Here was the man beneath the suffering and neglect of his childhood. Here was the boy Gin had fallen in love with all those years ago.</p>
<p>And then Sanji was saying, “Take me away, Gin. Please.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. treading new paths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Their escape was set to the background of Germa’s downfall. The noise and fear and outrage were good, in a way: it made it easier for them to remain unseen, unrecognised. It was pandemonium, though; people were already shouting out that King Judge was dead, Princess Reiju was to be executed for regicide, and Prince Sanji had disappeared.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their escape was set to the background of Germa’s downfall. The noise and fear and outrage were good, in a way: it made it easier for them to remain unseen, unrecognised. It was pandemonium, though; people were already shouting out that King Judge was dead, Princess Reiju was to be executed for regicide, and Prince Sanji had disappeared.</p><p>A whole kingdom unravelled from the fabric of existence in an instant.</p><p>Fire and chaos had begun to engulf the capital entirely, and it was Gin’s job to get Sanji out of there safely. They’d taken Gin’s warhorse, Diablo, a shaggy black gelding that was large as he was sound. Leftover rations of food and a waterskin were shoved into a knapsack along with a blanket from the stable, some brushes, rope, and a sack of chaff that could feed Diablo for a few days at least. Unease knotted in Gin’s gut at the lack of supplies they’d been able to take for him and Sanji. Just the clothes they wore, Gin’s sword, and what things they could carry.</p><p>Diablo’s hooves clacked against the cobblestone roads, dodging through the crowds of people. Gin was barely looking what was happening around them—there wasn’t much worth seeing, anyway. Sanji sat behind Gin on the warhorse, arms clamped around his waist, face pressed into his back.</p><p>They rode until the fires had burnt into faint specks of light in the distance. The civilisation of the capital faded away into the slopes of farmland—barren pastures and sparse crops. Finally, it all gave way to the untamed wilderness of nature, to woodlands dense with leafy trees and scratchy, prickled underbrush. Gin slowed Diablo to a walk once silence settled over them. Overhead, the night was as pitch-black as the tar Gin had dipped searchlight torches into when he stood guard on the place grounds. Only now he had no possible way of lighting up the dark.</p><p>“Gin,” Sanji said, pulling back from him. The absence of his touch against Gin’s back let the cold creep in, laying the heavy cloak of night-time across them. “Let’s stop. I’m tired.”</p><p>The tension of Gin’s reins relaxed as he leaned back, easing Diablo into a halt. He patted the warhorse’s neck and whispered a few assurances. The poor creature had taken them further and faster than they ever had before. Sanji’s grip tightened on Gin’s sides as he hooked his chin over his shoulder, his entire body flush up against Gin’s.</p><p>“Is Diablo alright?”</p><p>Gin forced himself not to react, holding himself still, motionless. Although his body ached from riding for hours and his eyes were always alert to danger, the sensation of Sanji so close to him was near electrifying. It blazed through Gin. The warm air of Sanji’s breath against his neck prickled his cold skin.</p><p>“Yes,” Gin said, gruffly, “he’s fine.”</p><p>Their closeness seemed to become apparent to Sanji then. He cleared his throat, drawing backwards slowly, hands falling from their place on Gin’s waist. The fear and exhilaration had left them exhausted, facing the very bare reality of what had happened. They’d escaped Germa, but what next? What did they do now?</p><p>“We can talk in the morning; it doesn’t have to be now,” Gin said.</p><p>“I know.” Sanji’s voice was hazy with sleep. “Do you think we can find a place to camp there?” He pointed to the thatch of nearby trees—it was all the same stretch of woods, new and unknown. It was the safest place to be right now, though. Gin couldn’t even risk finding a watermill or farmhouse to venture breaking into, looking to fight someone over a bed and scraps of food.</p><p>“If ‘camping’ means huddling under a horse blanket with no fire with our backs against a tree, then yes: we will find a spot.” Throwing his leg forward over Diablo’s neck and expertly sliding off, Gin looked up to watch Sanji’s expression in the dimmest glow of night. Eyes bruised with fatigue, hair mussed, and the gold of his circlet pressed down over his brow. And his eyes—bright, shining, and so sad they left Gin hollow.</p><p>Gin swallowed, trying to find the right words. Trying to put a balm to the wound that Sanji would bear—for years—until it could properly heal. “Take my hand, my prince,” he said instead, holding out the offering to Sanji.</p><p>Sanji’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. He took Gin’s hand and dismounted Diablo, sliding down, but his knees were weak, and his muscles were strained. Gin let out a surprised huff as Sanji fell forward into his arms.</p><p>The clean, fresh scent of Sanji’s hair was in Gin’s mouth. He coughed, eyes straying heavenwards in a plea as he helped Sanji to straighten up. Sanji laughed feebly at the ridiculousness of it all. His eyes flickered up to find Gin’s, and the darkness that had presided there was erased, just for a moment, in the lightness of their awkward fumbling.</p><p>The furious thump of Gin’s heart rushed through his body, echoing in his ears. The noise drowned out his surroundings, narrowing it down to Gin’s sole attention on Sanji. Gin stared blankly at Sanji, and then stared some more.</p><p>“Gin,” Sanji breathed, almost like he hadn’t meant to, cheeks pinkening with the cold. He reached forward, fingers just grazing Gin’s chin.</p><p>Stepping backwards, Gin put a respectable distance between them. “Let’s find a place to settle down.” He took Diablo’s reins in hand. “It’s not safe out in the open.”</p><p>“It’s certainly not,” Sanji murmured, exhaling.</p><p>Gin walked to the edge of woodlands, not looking at Sanji as he fell into step beside him. The woodlands seemed dark and deep, luring them in with its mystery. Gin pulled his hand in close to his side so he wouldn’t touch Sanji accidentally, but he kept a watchful eye on him. It was dangerous outside the palace walls—and Sanji had rarely ever made it past the gates.</p><p>They trudged on into the thicket. The dense canopy above blacked out any light from the thin rind of the pale moon. The groundcover was thorny and uneven, but at least it was away from the vulnerable openness of the road. Germa was no more than a memory on the horizon: a place that had been put to an everlasting death, like a skeleton picked clean.</p><p>“Here,” Gin said when they found a den of sorts under the roots of a gnarled tree. The ground had curved back naturally to reveal a shelter they could use to hide from bad weather and anyone—or anything—that stalked these woods. The den was large enough to comfortably fit them both if they crawled inside and sat tucked close to each other.</p><p>Sanji didn’t say a word, he simply curled himself into the den, but only after Gin had taken off his cape, giving Sanji something to protect him from the damp ground.</p><p>“Give me a moment, I’ll just settle Diablo, then I’ll take first shift,” Gin said in a hush. Sanji nodded feebly and his eyes flittered to a close.</p><p>Diablo was tied to a tree root and seemed content to be untacked and given a bag of chaff to chew on. Frowning at the dried grime of sweat on Diablo’s coat, Gin ran a reassuring hand over his flank. He hoped the warhorse could get them to a secure place before they had to start worrying about provisions. Just a few days more, at least.</p><p>Unstrapping his sword belt, Gin crawled in beside Sanji, although, he didn’t really know what to do once he got there. He scratched at his throat, heat flushing beneath his skin. The best option would be any form of contact to preserve warmth, but… Gin was still a measly knight, and Sanji was his prince. He wore a crown worth more than ten of Gin’s yearly wages.</p><p>Sanji, however, didn’t so concerned with such ideas of propriety. “Come here,” he grumbled, grabbing for Gin blindly as he sat up. Sanji cuddled into his side. Tension struck through Gin like lightning. He held the air inside his lungs, like if he dared to move or breathe it’d spoil the moment. Gin made a thoughtless noise of pleasure at the sudden warmth, or contact, or s<em>omething</em> that Gin didn’t have the courage to name.</p><p>“Gin?” Sanji asked.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Can you put your arm around me, please? The blanket’s not really that warm.”</p><p>Startled into movement, Gin allowed his arm to rest down slowly across Sanji’s shoulders. He scarcely believed he could act composed as he did it. His mind wandered, thinking on how Sanji felt beneath his touch—he was leaner than he looked. Yet that knowledge hardly did anything to help Gin’s situation.</p><p>“Wake me up when it’s my turn to take watch,” Sanji said, voice muffled against Gin’s chest, before his body relaxed, lulled into sleep.</p><p>Gin’s head fell back against the dirt wall. He sighed. “Of course, my prince.”</p><p>Gin had meant to stay up the whole night, but, in the early morning, Sanji roused awake and forced Gin to relent his sword, saying it was his turn to get some rest. Too wearied to argue, Gin let Sanji do as he wished. He fell asleep to the feeling of Sanji’s shoulder under his cheek, a gentle touch stroking over his hair, thinking it was all a hallucination that his delirious mind was concocting.</p><p>Sleep came easily, but it was fleeting. Dappled light was shifting across Gin’s face much too soon, forcing Gin to wakefulness.</p><p>“You’re awake,” he heard Sanji say.</p><p>Gin groaned, rubbing the tired graininess from his eyes. “I am.”</p><p>“Here.” Gin opened his eyes to see Sanji crouching in front of him, holding out a waterskin and a hunk of brown bread. Noticing how the tense lines of Sanji’s face had eased, just a little, Gin accepted it without complaint.</p><p>“I wish we’d taken some jam or butter,” Sanji said. “I didn’t realise how bland things tasted without it.”</p><p>Humming in agreement, Gin tore into the bread, swallowing it down with a mouthful of water. The woodlands around them seemed less menacing in the daylight. Brambles and shrubs thickened the groundcover, but the trees were plentiful and green, and the air was purer than the acrid stink that seemed to cling to Germa’s capital.</p><p>“Gin,” Sanji started, forgoing the pleasantries of conversation for what he actually wanted to talk about. “What are we going to do now?” He waited until Gin met his gaze—until he saw the iron will of strength in Sanji’s controlled expression, chin held high. He had royal blood, after all.</p><p>“What do you want to do, my prince?”</p><p>Sanji wrung his hands together, twisting the studded ring on his finger. “I don’t know. The palace is gone. My family is dead. I only met the crown prince of the Goa kingdom once, and that was years ago. He and his brothers don’t have any reason to protect me now.” He blew out a heavy breath, shoulders dropping. “We can’t visit any towns, at least not until we know it’s safe. They might be out for my head—or worse.”</p><p>Gin was silent. There was nothing he could say, no alternatives he could suggest. The only future he ever needed was making Sanji happy. He would do whatever Sanji asked him, follow him wherever he went: that was his responsibility. The pledge he’d made to himself years ago.</p><p>“What about you?” Sanji asked, abruptly. As if the question was forced out of him.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Don’t you want to go anywhere? Be with anyone else? You don’t have to look after me.” Sanji’s gaze was unwavering, fixed on Gin. It was almost as if he was cataloguing every one of his movements and facial tics, looking for a nonverbal answer. “You’re not my servant anymore, Gin.”</p><p>For the first time in a while, Gin laughed, loud and hearty. It reverberated through the woodlands. The full sound of it made Sanji blink, confusion marring his face.</p><p>“My life has only ever existed to serve you, my prince.”</p><p>“But you don’t owe me anything anymore,” Sanji said, brow creased.</p><p>“It’s not about repaying a debt.” Gin scoffed. “It’s about doing what I can for you.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>The question was quick, thoughtless—desperate. Their relationship could maybe be called a friendship, if it were not just that of a prince and his armoured guard, but that was it.</p><p>It could never be anything more.</p><p>“Because it’s my duty,” Gin said by way of explanation. The words trickled off into an awkward halt that he didn’t think either of them truly believed in.</p><p>Before Sanji could open his mouth, could press more, Gin continued, “So, we should at least find someplace to lay low for a few months. I think these woods used to be an old logging operation, so there’s sure to be some woodcutter’s cabins around. Or maybe some people who can point us to the direction of one.”</p><p>“And what happens then?”</p><p>“I try to make a place where you can live, or maybe we can travel to Goa after. Or I can find some work, so we have enough to get by—”</p><p> “No, that’s not what I meant,” Sanji cut in, leaning closer. It would be cowardly of Gin to look away from Sanji and avoid how he searched Gin’s face. “I’m asking what happens to you, Gin.”</p><p>There was only one thing Gin could say: “I will spend the rest of my life keeping you safe, my prince. I won’t ever leave your side.”</p><p>The wind shifted through the leaves of the trees above, the forest quiet with some ancient presence that seemed more powerful than anything Gin had ever known. His words had never felt so real—so weighty—until now. Whatever promises he made now we’re something that he had to prove, not just an expectation of his job. It was a burden—or a blessing—to bear.</p><p> Sanji didn’t smile at Gin like he thought he would, instead it was something softer, more intimate. The warmth in Sanji’s clear eyes burned away all the insecurities and discomfort inside Gin. Purged him clean. And, like that, the heavy truth of what happened didn’t mean they were so completely doomed anymore.</p><p>Germa had been destroyed, but that didn’t mean that Gin thought Sanji wasn’t allowed to have a chance of a better, more hopeful future.</p><p>Gin would make sure of it.</p><p>“Then let’s go and find this life waiting for us,” Sanji said, rising to stand. He was streaked with dirt, clothes torn and face shadowed, with Gin’s sword strapped around his waist and his head free of the crown he’d been forced to wear. It was a Sanji that hadn’t existed inside the palace walls; this was a new person.</p><p>But he was still the person Gin had tasked himself with serving until his death. And so, they began searching, looking for what the fates had laid in store for them. Gin insisted Sanji sit behind him on Diablo, hood pulled up and face cast down, when they got back onto the main roads. The grooves of the travel routes were well-worn into the ground, so they weren’t strangers to seeing people there. Gin was careful in choosing who they talked to at first.</p><p>Men with swords on their hips and grimy teeth he avoided, or anyone who was armed like a mercenary. Mostly he searched for women or families with children, asking innocuous questions about the fall of the capital. They found out their suspicions were true: the commonfolk believed Princess Reiju had murdered their king, although no one seemed certain if she had been arrested or executed for it yet. The matter of Prince Sanji, however, was not so simple. Some say he had died in the uprising, others said he helped Reiju to kill Judge, or that he perished in the palace fire. But the story that made Gin startle, hands tightening around his reins, is when he heard that Sanji had run away with his lover, the black-headed guard who was never too far from the prince.</p><p>Sanji had nearly burst out laughing when he first heard it, but Gin hushed him. The wizened old man who had told them the rumour watched their interaction with a curious glint to his eyes. He was a peddler who had stopped at the side of the road with a wagon opened up to travellers, showing all his goods and wares. Three of his grandchildren sat in a patch of nearby grass, paging through a storybook.</p><p>“Were you two boys not in the capital when it fell?” The peddler asked.</p><p>Clearing his throat, Gin kept his tone level. “Do you know any place where we could find cheap lodgings and food? We’ve never travelled so far east.”</p><p>“Oh, well.” The old man glanced at the supplies he was selling, pausing. “I can’t quite remember…”</p><p>Halfway to bidding the man farewell, Gin felt Sanji shift behind him. He tapped against Gin’s side in a sign to wait. Sanji pressed something hard and metal into Gin’s hands just a few moments later. Exhaling, Gin held the gold bracelets out to show the peddler. Judge had given them to Sanji as more as a punishment than a gift: they were a reminder of how he was shackled to the Vinsmokes and his position as a prince. It was almost a relief to see them bartered away.</p><p>“We’ll take whatever food and water this can purchase for us and the horse, and any clothes that will fit,” Gin said. “Also, any information on a safe place we can stay. A place where not many people would be able to find us.”</p><p>The peddler scrutinised the bracelets, putting one between his clamped teeth. “Fine things, these are. Something nobility would carry.”</p><p>“We stole them.” Gin spoke flatly. His experience as a knight had made him learn that his skills in battle were just as important as what kind of person people thought he was upfront. Fear sometimes struck deeper than a blade.</p><p>“Alright,” the man coughed, tucking the bracelets away into his sleeve. “I’ll take them. I’ve got clean shirts and a cloak or two, a few days of rations, and you can fill your waterskins from my wagon. And there’s talk of some old lumberjack’s cottage nearby, just follow the path of the setting sun. It was said to be a fine bit of land once, pretty enough to tickle your husband’s fancy, even.”</p><p>Gin blinked in rapid succession. His palms were sweaty, and it wasn’t from the hot noon sun beating down on them.</p><p>“You’re right,” Sanji announced theatrically, squeezing his arms tighter around Gin’s middle. “My husband only ever treats me to the best he can provide.” He laid his face against Gin’s shoulder, making a show of it all.</p><p>At Gin’s sudden silence, Sanji leaned closer to his ear to say, “Isn’t that right, darling?”</p><p>Heat flushed against Gin’s neck. “Yes,” he struggled to get out, “I try.”</p><p>Gin made quick business of replenishing their stocks, ignoring how Sanji distracted the old man with regales of his and Gin’s romantic life. He was never gladder to say his farewells to anyone, offering a strained smile to their audience as Sanji hugged him from behind on Diablo, wishing the peddler and his family well.</p><p>“That was entertaining,” Sanji said once they were out of earshot. He was still holding onto Gin, unconcerned with how close they were. How Gin could feel every point of Sanji pressed to him, breath in his ear, conjuring images in Gin’s mind of what Sanji would be like tangled with him in bed, his naked body stretched out, mouth all over Gin—</p><p>“Yes,” Gin blurted out. “Indeed.”</p><p>“We should play the part of a married couple if anyone asks again. It’s more plausible than saying we’re just friends, or cousins, or whoever.”</p><p>Gin nodded, making a noise of agreement low in his throat. He focused on guiding Diablo through the woodland in the direction the old peddler had given, gaze trained on what lay ahead of him. He didn’t think about Sanji sitting behind him, about his arms around Gin’s waist or the way Sanji’s voice seemed to echo throughout his entire body.</p><p>By the time Gin had worked himself into fit—mostly about the misinformation about the capital that the peddler had given, not about Sanji, no, of course not—the late fiery sun was nearly eclipsed by heavy cloud cover, dark and low.</p><p>The first drops of rain fell from the heavens, splattering against Gin’s hands. What he could manage to see through the woodlands ahead was growing darker by the second.</p><p>“That peddler was having us on,” Gin grumbled. The leathery reins were getting slippery in his grip.</p><p>“No,” Sanji said, his words as soft as the springtime rain. “Look. There.”</p><p>As if it had been summoned by the allure of Sanji’s voice, a manmade structure appeared in the distance, modest and quaint, but still standing.</p><p>Closing the distance, Gin could see more and more of the structure. It had once been an old stone woodcutter’s cottage, but time and disuse had left it to ruin. Twisted vines of ivy crept along the thatched roof, and one of the stone walls had caved in on itself. The inside of it was dim. Gin chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating the dangers and rewards of scouting it out before dismounting. He tied Diablo to a standing post outside the cottage. He shared a pointed glance with Sanji—<em>stay by me</em>, he urged without words—before helping him down off of his mount.</p><p>Gin unsheathed his sword and stepped into to the cottage. It was one long room: bedroom, kitchen, and a living space all lumped together. Beneath his boots, the smell of rot and dampness rose up from the floorboards. Wind whistled in through a broken windowpane. But the only thing awaiting them there was the sound of rain against the roof.</p><p>“No one’s been here for a while,” Sanji said, reaching out to touch the undisturbed layer of windblown leaves on the furs of the bed. “It’s deserted.”</p><p>“That might be good for us.” Gin blinked. <em>Good for us,</em> he’d said, not, <em>good for you</em>. How could he be so thick-headed to speak like Sanji ever wanted to be stuck with him for the remainder of his days? Why did Gin ever believe in anything but the reality he was dealt?</p><p>Yet Sanji merely laughed, his breath coming out gently, like an afterthought. “Could we do it? Could we stop running and try to live… here?”</p><p>Gin wanted to ask if Sanji meant that they would do it together. The question sat hot and heavy on his chest beneath his ribcage, but he couldn’t dare speak it. Gin could never deserve a life as simple as the one he could picture here: sharing a cottage with Sanji, with a vegetable garden and two chairs by the fireplace—always <em>together.</em></p><p>He shook his head free from those silly daydreams and looked at Sanji with a serious directness that he often avoided, usually not trusting himself to see Sanji gazing back.</p><p>“Do I have to say it?” Gin asked, but it was more of a tease than a real question. It was a familiar space they could fill with things only they knew, with a past only they shared.</p><p>Sanji cocked his head, the corner of his mouth raised into an uptick. “I’d like to live here, Gin, and I’d like you to stay here with me.” It wasn’t an order. It wasn’t even a suggestion; it was an offer that only death could keep Gin from seizing.</p><p>“Of course, my prince.” Gin lowered himself into a bow.</p><p>They made a quick stock of what supplies were left in the cottage by the darkening light. The precious owner had handcrafted furniture, made to last. Weather and time had simply ruined most of what was left behind. There was nearly no food besides weevil-infested sacks of mouldy flour and grain. Mildew clung to the wall in patches. Bugs seemed to skitter across every surface. Moth-bitten cotton sheets and winter clothes were tucked away in a simple wooden closet for someone who had never come back for them. There were no personal touches—it was a simple workman’s home. They hadn’t struggled to leave, at least. Gin grumbled at the state of things, slamming doors shut and cursing.</p><p>Yet Sanji was impervious to his grousing, instead finding a broom and starting to clean. He may have been a prince, but Sanji was no stranger to chores, having spent his happiest moments working with Zeff. For that, he needed to know what hard work was.</p><p>Gin looked away from him, running a hand through his rain-flattened hair. The cottage wasn’t so bad, he supposed. The roof was intact. There were tools and utensils that merely needed a good scrubbing. Gutted beeswax tallow candles that could still be lit aflame. Out the back, Gin found a holding pen and shelter he let Diablo loose in, only after propping up the rotted wooden fence. There was even a pile of firewood, but it was too wet to burn. Gin also came across an untended, weed-ridden garden patch and a hand-powered water pump he blistered his fingers on trying to get it working, eventually managing to pull up fresh water for himself and Sanji.</p><p>After all that, Gin set to stacking most of the stones that had tumbled out from the broken wall, just for some semblance of privacy. When night had well and truly fallen, Gin, with clothes plastered to his skin and shoes waterlogged and muddy, stomped back inside. Sanji was sitting on the bed after putting a fresh lot of spare sheets and furs down. His broom had been discarded nearby and he had pulled a fur-lined cloak around his shoulders, nose flushed a ruddy red. A few burning candles illuminated the vague outline of the room.</p><p>“Take off your boots.” Sanji sniffed then sneezed with the least amount of grace Gin had ever seen.</p><p>With the boots tidily put away by the door, Gin went to crouch by Sanji. It seemed he’d be taking a knee for him forever.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Gin fought the urge to reach out and feel Sanji’s forehead for fever.</p><p>“Cold, tired, hungry.”</p><p>Gin smiled. “To bed with you then.”</p><p>Sanji huffed, yet he didn’t raise any complaints to the suggestion. Their day had been arduous—even for Gin. Sanji stood up, and Gin hardly registered what was happening until Sanji let his cloak fall onto the bed and started undoing the buttons and laces of his clothing. Even after so long spent in Sanji’s company, Gin had barely seen the skin of his neck or wrists; his body was always hidden under rich, colourful garb. A princely raiment was a different type of armour, after all.</p><p>The glimmer of candlelight was almost luminescent against the pale nakedness of Sanji’s body. Gin watched as Sanji stripped down to a simple white shirt, the strings of his collar hanging open loosely. His mouth was dry. Shock had rooted him to the spot, an intoxicating thrill keeping his eyes following Sanji’s movements: the way his fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt, the hair hanging over his eyes, the length of his legs as he shifted on his feet. He was cast in a shadowy kind of beauty that made Gin wonder if Germa really had fallen or if this was merely a dream he’d conjured up in his dying moments.</p><p>Then Sanji’s gaze snapped to his, noticing that Gin wasn’t doing anything—was simply staring at him. A deep flush spread across his face. “Uh, Gin—”</p><p>“Apologies, my prince, I didn’t mean—” he said in a rush, embarrassment making his tongue clumsy— “I’ll go fetch our dry clothes.” He coughed, taking the wet bundle from Sanji and laying them out over the chair-backs in the kitchen. He was turned away from Sanji.</p><p>Gin couldn’t seem to erase the sight of Sanji’s translucent shirt sticking to his skin. He could still see the rosy buds of Sanji’s nipples through the fabric, and when he imagined putting his lips over them—coaxing sweet, breathy moans from Sanji’s mouth—Gin nearly tore his satchel open. Yanking out the new clothes they’d bought, Gin quickly changed. He tried—hopelessly—to focus on the mechanics of dressing. The knowledge that Sanji was just as naked as him only a short distance away had his pulse stuttering, a shiver passing through him.</p><p>Laying out his own drenched clothes, Gin grabbed a fresh pair for Sanji and walked over to him. He thrust it into Sanji’s hands, gaze averted so he wouldn’t see anything more than fragments: the ridges of Sanji’s collarbone, the lean muscle, the pretty lashes fluttering against his cheek. The rush of Gin’s heartbeat was loud in his ears.</p><p>He moved away as soon as he could, busying himself him with a handful of dried peach slices and wiping his sword down as he sat at the circular dining table. He fastidiously avoided looking in any direction towards Sanji. He could tell though, by the sounds and the ghosts of movement in his peripheral vision, that he’d slipped into bed.</p><p>Although, things were never quite so simple.</p><p>“Gin?” Sanji asked after a while.</p><p>Gin hummed idly in response.</p><p>“If you don’t need to take watch, can you… come into bed with me? It’s cold.”</p><p>It became startlingly apparent that Gin hadn’t thought about what to do in this situation. There was nowhere he could really sleep that was comfortable or warm enough. When they had to rest next to each other in the forest, it was for the sake of survival. It was acceptable, but now… it would be improper to sleep in a bed beside Sanji; he was a prince, used to the finery of linen sheets and featherbeds and mattresses heated by a coal-filled copper pan—not <em>this</em>. Not resorting to animal furs piled over him and a lowly, travel-stinking guard for warmth.</p><p>It would be worse if Gin refused Sanji, though. The last thing he deserved was a rejection and seeing the hurt flash across Sanji’s face wasn’t worth any price he could name. And, maybe, some secret shameful desire flickered inside Gin at the proposition. It tempted him into accepting, into forgetting whatever codes of honour he lived by.</p><p>Gin put his sword down and did as he was bid: climbing into bed—big enough for two, but barely—with the man who was the heir to a fallen kingdom. The one person Gin had never wanted to do this with out of fear of destroying everything.</p><p>Sanji was facing Gin as he settled beneath the furs, watching him with a quiet kind of peacefulness. Clearing his throat, Gin made sure the blankets were tucked around Sanji tightly so that he was suitably warm before turning over. Gin’s arm slipped under the pillow and he stared at the wall.</p><p>“Goodnight,” Sanji said haltingly after a stilted moment, almost unsurely.</p><p>“Goodnight, my prince.”</p><p>If Sanji inched closer to Gin that night and clutched a handful of his shirt in his fingers, then Gin would’ve done nothing to stop it. No vestige of inner strength or courage Gin could possibly have could deny Sanji the simple pleasure of touch—or maybe Gin needed the contact just as much as he did. It was a reassuring presence that lulled Gin into a deep, restful sleep that he’d long been deprived of.</p><p>Gin—used to early mornings and lively barracks—was the first to rise the next day. The abrupt unfamiliarity in his surroundings made him cautious, slow to wake up. Otherwise he would’ve been far too relaxed and snuggled into the warmth in the bed. That warmth being Sanji, tucked close to him, Germa’s once darling prince.</p><p>Somehow, Gin had rolled over in the night and pressed his face into Sanji’s neck, an arm firm around his waist. The intimacy of it was something precious, but also dangerous. Far too close to what Gin truly wanted. Swallowing, Gin was apprehensive in disentangling himself from Sanji’s embrace. He couldn’t believe that he was mere millimetres away from nosing along Sanji’s neck, into his hair, delighting in his closeness. Or worse: kissing the skin beneath his lips.</p><p>Instead, Gin carefully sat up on the edge of the bed, feet set on the chilly wooden floorboards. After a moment of processing what he’d just awoken to, he sighed, exhaustion flooding through him. He hung his head and rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. Then he was turning back to look at Sanji.</p><p>The watery sunlight had softened the shadows that haunted Sanji. That made Gin’s heart ache just so. Sanji seemed somehow smaller, more vulnerable in the dewy beginning of morning. It was a sight that almost stole Gin’s very breath from his lungs. He couldn’t help it; after a life spent refusing even the smallest of things—a touch, a glance—this was hardly a worthy compensation. For once, Gin allowed himself to act on his feelings and reach forward, fingers brushing over Sanji’s cheek.</p><p>Then he was forcing those feelings down, packing them away. He stood up, ready to face whatever this new life would grant them.</p><p>And so, the first day of many at that run-down, mildew-infested cabin began.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>will be uploading the rest of the chapters on a regular schedule every week from now on! thanks for the support so far &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. simple pleasantries of daily life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In less than a full cycle of the moon, they seemed to fall into a routine of sorts.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In less than a full cycle of the moon, they seemed to fall into a routine of sorts. Gin focused on mending what he could—the fence, the roof, the wall—with the tools they had. It was easy labour. The garden he could weed and rake, especially after Sanji found jars and bottles of seeds that hopefully weren’t too old. He would’ve refused to let Sanji help altogether if Gin wasn’t already absent most of the day, checking the snares and traps he’d set for small game every dusk and dawn. There was also a plentiful bounty of plants in the woodlands, and Gin often scrounged for herbs, flowers, and roots he recognised.</p><p>Anxious to do something, but unfamiliar with days of tedious tasks that needed to be done, Sanji strove to aid in what he could. He announced that he’d be their cook and took to putting the kitchen in order, and then the rest of the house, too. Unease twisted inside Gin to see Sanji doing the same work as servants had done in the palace. He was royalty. It wasn’t right. Gin had grown up accustomed to the position he was given, or the one he earned, but not Sanji.</p><p>That was another pattern that was quickly appearing between them: whatever troubled Gin seemed to exasperate Sanji.</p><p>One day, when the weather was warm and the sky unclouded, Gin tried to fix the cottage’s broken wall. Stacking planks of wood and brush and stone against it didn’t do much to block out the nightly draught that Gin had all but forgotten about, too used to the comforts his previous palace life had afforded him. Oftentimes he would hear Sanji’s teeth chatter when they lay in bed, and Gin would frown at how little their stoked fireplace helped to retain heat inside. Most times he would roll over and put his arm around Sanji just so he would stop shivering.</p><p>It was becoming frighteningly normal to drift to sleep with Sanji in his embrace now. Sanji seemed content—almost happy—with the contact, although Gin knew his entire life had just been upheaved. Of course, he was glad for any source of comfort. The fact that it was Gin providing those reassurances didn’t matter.</p><p>So, Gin endeavoured to fix that damned wall before he, or Sanji, did something truly stupid. Their life together was tenuous at best—who would have ever believed the prince of Germa had run off with his knight? It hardly felt real sometimes.</p><p>Gin tried not to muse on the reality of their situation as he spread a makeshift mortar paste over the caved-in cabin wall. It felt like his brow had been permanently stuck in a worried crease lately. He slapped a building stone onto the mortar with a heavy <em>clunk</em>. It didn’t help that Gin sometimes got restless, unsatisfied, knowing privacy barely existed between him and Sanji now. Flashes of nakedness, personal space, general companionship—it had become a normal thing. There wasn’t much he could do to avoid it.</p><p>Cursing, Gin stood up, forcing the thoughts from his head. He tried to repair the wall as swiftly as he could, standing on a low stool and layering stone on mortar, piling it up until it brushed the thatched roof. Work was useful in keeping his mind occupied. When he was done, he passed Sanji in the garden with a swift word of greeting when he went to wash up. Gin filled a fresh bucket of water from the well and cleaned his hands and arms in it, scrubbing his face.</p><p>The sun was reaching the height of midday, and the woodlands were warm even under the cover of the leafy canopies above. Gin poured the whole bucket over his neck, water sluicing down his clothed chest and back. He caught Sanji’s gaze flickering over to him before his head dipped down, hidden away in the overgrown mass of the garden. Gin swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he tightened the headband across his forehead before walking around to where they kept firewood, stacked in a leaning pile against the cottage.</p><p>Another chore, another way to keep himself busy.</p><p>Gin grabbed the axe and reached for a log, setting it down on the chopping block. With a roll of his shoulders, Gin held the axe high over his head and brought it down on top of the wood. It split in half like a ripe fruit cut down to its core. Smiling at how easily he cleft the wood in two, Gin grabbed for another log and set it in place. Swing, cut, toss. After a while, he swiped a hand across his sweaty brow and stripped off his dirtied shirt. Even so far away from the capital, the noonday sun did not relent.</p><p>He hadn’t noticed Sanji was there until he heard the slap of a door hitting its frame. Turning around to look at him, Gin rested the axe across his shoulder. He opened his mouth to make some inane comment—about the monotony of chores, or summer closing in—but he stopped at the sight of Sanji’s expression. He was red-faced, lips parted. Gin had never seen him so flustered.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Gin asked.</p><p>“I—I just wanted to know if you needed any help.”</p><p>“No,” he blurted out, curt. Gin tried to soften his tone. “It’s fine. I’ve got a handle on it.”</p><p>“But…” Sanji put his hands on his hips—something Zeff did when he wanted to be heard, Gin recognised. “Gin, you’ve been working since dawn. I’m not just useful for cooking and tending vegetables, you know.” Sanji’s brows creased at that, mouth pressed into a thin line.</p><p>Gin sighed. “I know.”</p><p>“Then let me help,” Sanji said, like it was an easy offer—not a cry or a beg, but a casual suggestion.</p><p>Gin noticed then that Sanji had rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. His cheek was smudged with dirt, and his boots were scuffed and dusty. Gin was seeing less and less of the person who should’ve only known luxury—and soon Gin wouldn’t be of any need to him at all.</p><p>“You don’t need to,” Gin said bluntly, reaching for another log, “I can do it myself.”</p><p>“But I’m not your prince anymore, Gin!” Sanji stepped forward, eyebrows creased. His anger seemed to melt into frustration as he huffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t need to be coddled like some wretched little thing, waiting to be protected. Waiting to be <em>saved</em>.”</p><p>“Of course, my prince.” For once, the words were not a comfort, but a bald-faced rejection.</p><p>Gin tried not to flinch at the stony silence that followed as Sanji looked at him—and he could feel that Sanji wanted him to look back. Except, he didn’t. If this was the only way Gin could maintain the relationship they had without confusing it for something else, large and terrifying, then he would. He had to. Sanji turned on his heel and stomped back into the cottage.</p><p>The sound around them slipped into a quiet that was ill at ease. Gin hadn’t known this kind of tension, of Sanji striving to avoid or ignore him, since he’d first joined Germa’s military ranks. It was just as awful as he remembered. Satisfaction soon soured, bitter resentment instead taking residence in his heart. He’d done wrong by Sanji and himself.</p><p>Later, when Gin’s muscles ached and his mental list of daily jobs were crossed off, he knew he couldn’t hide away from Sanji anymore. They only had each other out here, and Gin wouldn’t leave Sanji to stew over his emotions, learning how to hate Gin in his absence when he went to check their hunting traps.</p><p>The afternoon had dipped into a seasonable warmth, peaceful in its serenity.</p><p>Sanji didn’t look at him as he pushed the door open, stepping inside. Gin moved to throw his cloak over his shoulders, tying the strings at his throat, and reached for his sword belt. He spared a wary glance in Sanji’s direction as he looped it around his waist. Gin’s gaze met the solid expanse of Sanji’s back.</p><p>Frowning, the final stirrings of negativity inside Gin dissipated. It was worse to bear Sanji’s indifference than any other type of emotion. He’d rather be yelled at than disregarded. Flexing his fingers by his side, as if steeling himself for battle, Gin approached Sanji.</p><p>“Do you want me to look for anything for you?” Gin asked awkwardly. “When I’m out checking the snares, I mean.” It was a paltry attempt at apologising for his behaviour—a pathetic peace offering.</p><p>Sanji was trying to roll a dough between his hands, although the flour they found was barely salvageable. “No. I’m fine.” He firmly kneaded it under the palm of his hand, face defiantly tipped downwards.</p><p>“Didn’t you say you wanted some…” Gin sifted through his memories for a snippet of a conversation they’d had a few days ago. “Mint, wasn’t it? To boil for tea?”</p><p>Sanji was silent for a moment, his movements stilling. “And wild parsnips, too. Or mushroom, berries. Anything.” He pinched a piece of dough between his fingers, rubbing it idly.</p><p>Gin stared at Sanji’s hands, knowing he could leave now if he wanted to. Yet, something kept him there, a magic spell that bound him to Sanji’s side, unable to move. He barely thought about what he could do—or say—before he reached for Sanji. His fingers closed around Sanji’s wrist.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Gin said tremulously, almost a murmur. It was a gentleness Sanji deserved.</p><p>“Just…” Sanji sighed. “Just let me do things. I don’t want to be a burden.”</p><p>“You’re not.”</p><p>“Don’t treat me like a child, Gin. Not you.”</p><p>Gin swallowed; his throat was dry. His grip on Sanji relaxed, and he turned Sanji’s hand over in his own, cradling it. The air between them was weighted down with a <em>something</em> that had eluded Gin for weeks. Then he noticed the Sanji’s fingertips looked a flushed, painful red.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Gin tentatively felt for the heat of swelling.</p><p>“I’m getting used to working every day, that’s all.”</p><p>Perturbed, Gin raised Sanji’s hand up to his face. There was nothing that looked out of the ordinary; he just hadn’t known the constant toils of cleaning and cooking and mending. Gin’s gaze flickered up to Sanji’s face, almost like an afterthought. He found Sanji watching him. The hair brushed over his eyes seemed featherlight, doing nothing to hide the way Sanji’s gaze lingered, almost as if frozen to the spot.</p><p>Gin found himself—for once—free of the usual worries and insecurities that dogged him. This was natural. It would be wrong to find Sanji so quietly mesmerising, so completely beautiful, and not do anything. He pressed his lips to Sanji’s fingers, like a courtly knight kissing a maiden’s fair hand. It was an act they would sing about in romantic ballads.</p><p>“I’ll try to see if I can find a bee’s nest. You can use honey to soothe some hurts,” Gin breathed, seeing Sanji’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinked rapidly. Sanji’s hand twitched in his grasp and Gin knew then, with a startlingly clarity, that he’d done something irrevocable. Cataclysmic.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Of course, my prince.” Gin dropped Sanji’s hand and turned away in a flurry of movement, pushing outside with an insistency Gin didn’t hope looked like he was fleeing. His mouth burned; his fingers tingled where they’d held Sanji’s.</p><p>How could he be so foolish? Again, and again, and again he found himself acting so thoughtlessly, drawn helplessly along by the rush of emotions that flooded through him. Sanji was everything and too much all at once. And Gin was so completely, hopelessly in love with him.</p><p>But a prince didn’t get to live happily ever after with his fair knight. It didn’t work like that. Germa wouldn’t just fade from existence—and Gin doubted that Sanji could let so many people suffer if he was given the chance to make it right. If he could help, he would. Gin would never stand in the way of that.</p><p>So, Gin stalked out into the woods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He could still see Sanji’s eyes—so wide with shock—staring at him with a kind of anticipation, a fearful desire. It was the same longing that made Gin’s heart ache constantly.</p><p>Gin walked, and then kept on walking. Half the animals in the wilderness would have to be spooked by how much noise he was making. Most of the snares were empty besides two rabbits he made clean work of killing before resetting the traps. Gin washed his hands at the stream he’d found nearby; a pure, clear trickle of mountain meltwater that flowed right through the woodlands. He almost didn’t recognise the plant at first, growing nearby in a small green bush.</p><p>It was mint, just like Sanji had asked for.</p><p>Sighing, Gin shook the water off his hands. Of course, he knew he was going back, but now he had been given the very opportunity to return <em>now</em>. To offer Sanji a measly handful of mint leaves—the rest of his scavenging haul could wait. He’d make a paltry apology and his guard would only drop to let Sanji curl into his arms at night.</p><p>“Fine,” Gin gritted out between a frustrated clench of teeth. “I’ll do it.” He took out the filleting knife he’d been using as a makeshift dagger and moved to carefully uproot the mint bush. The blade had only just dipped into the loose clump of soil when—</p><p>“Do what, huh?” A voice asked.</p><p>Gin’s head snapped up. He barely heard them coming—not even a rustle of movement and suddenly an armour-clad man was there. He did nothing to hide his intentions: a crossbow was trained on Gin.</p><p>“Digging up some mint,” Gin replied. He carefully cut around the plant and pulled it from the ground, whistling as he did it. It was casual, non-threatening.</p><p>“Heard there was some rich fellow hiding away out here,” the an said slowly, as if gauging Gin’s reaction. “Sold gold bracelets to an old peddler on the main road about half a day’s ride away.”</p><p>“Haven’t seen anyone like that around here. Sorry I can’t be of any help.” Standing up, shoving the bush into his satchel, Gin moved to walk away. He smiled; hand flicked up into a wave. “I got to get home now. My dearest is waiting for me.”</p><p>The crossbow trained on Gin lowered, and he blew out a relieved breath. They were letting him go. Then, right as he passed by the mercenary, his eyes flickered past Gin’s face, to his ears. Gin was dressed like simple commonfolk—nothing about him would raise suspicion, nothing except the bright, red earrings. It was the most expensive thing he owned, gifted to him by Sanji years ago on his eighteenth birthday.</p><p>“Funny that,” the man said, grinning. “There was two men travelling—and one of them had black hair and these earrings that the peddler had never seen before.” He cocked his head. “Rich, shiny things.”</p><p>“And?” Gin prompted calmly.</p><p> “And”—the man fired the crossbow—“you might seem to know something about it.”</p><p>Gin’s shoulder felt bruised, like he’d just taken a hit. Or, well, something like that. There was a crossbow bolt protruding from his shoulder. His brain simply hadn’t registered the pain yet. Gin’s furious gaze slid over to the mercenary, who had barely lowered his weapon, trying to lay out Gin’s options before Gin was quickly advancing on him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins.</p><p>“You don’t get to demand anything, bastard,” Gin spat and surged forward.</p><p>He tackled the man to the ground, grimacing only briefly at the bright flash of hurt. The crossbow was knocked out of the head-hunter’s hands, and he pulled and kicked at Gin, nicking his face with the edge of a blade he’d hidden beneath his sleeve. But Gin was a champion of Germa. The mercenary didn’t have much against skill, experience, and Gin’s single-minded drive to return home to Sanji.</p><p>The man died choking on Gin’s knife thrust through his throat and a knee on his chest. Blood poured from the wound, his voice a gut-wrenching, gurgling noise. His crazed eyes looked to the sky as the light in them started to dim.</p><p>The pain in Gin’s shoulder started to flare out. He sat back; the energy was drained from his body. The image of Sanji waiting for him back in the cottage, rolling dough, flashed in his mind. Air hissed through Gin’s teeth as he robbed the man—he was a mercenary, after all. Gin could feel sweat begin to bead on his forehead when he’d hoisted the crossbow up onto his shoulder.</p><p>Gin stumbled home. His vision starting to blur. He’d fought in Germa’s bloodthirsty battles before; he’d punched the teeth out of drunks in tavern alleyways and soldiers driven mad with their king’s elixir, yet this was different. He couldn’t leave Sanji. There were more people out there who sought to do worse to their lost prince, and Gin knew his stupid, pitiable heartsickness meant nothing compared to that. He had to be there for Sanji.</p><p>The cottage appeared in the distance. It had been fixed into a working state, now, and Gin smiled to see Sanji sitting outside on the front verandah. The pain had started to make him woozy. Gin’s focus was narrowed down to the pure solid ache in his shoulder and the happiness rising up in him at spotting Sanji.</p><p>“My prince,” Gin went to call out, but it manifested as nothing more than a trembling slip of a noise. He tripped, but managed to right himself, before he reached the edge of their boundary fence. “Help,” Gin breathed.</p><p>Sanji looked up, armed with an expression surely meant to fight, although as soon as he saw Gin that anger slipped away.</p><p>“What happened?” Sanji asked, rushing to his feet.</p><p>The last remaining force of Gin’s strength left him. He half-slumped over, falling into Sanji’s arms. “I got your mint,” Gin offered weakly.</p><p>“That’s not—” Sanji cut himself off. His arm tightened around Gin. “Let’s get you inside.”</p><p>It wasn’t as dramatic an affair as Gin thought it would be. Sanji made Gin lie on the bed, which he was incredibly thankful for, yet not for when Sanji placed his hand over the crossbow bolt and yanked it out before Gin could even process what he was about to do. A blinding jolt of pain shot straight through him. Gin cursed, hand clamping down over Sanji’s wrist.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Sanji said, pressing down over Gin’s wound. Blood pooled around his fingers. “I had to get it out, Gin.” He sounded calmer than Gin thought he would be, but his voice shook, only ever so slightly.</p><p>Gin opened his eyes, finally, seeing Sanji hovering above him. The rapid pace of his pulse settled. He saw how Sanji’s mouth was pinched tight, concern glimmering in his eyes.</p><p>“I know,” Gin exhaled. “Thank you.” His thumb rubbed over Sanji’s wrist; his fingers were still curled around him.</p><p>Huffing, the tension in Sanji’s face eased. “Just promise me you won’t do this again.”</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“Scare me like that.”</p><p>Gin’s mouth quirked into a sly kind of grin. “I’ll try.”</p><p>Emotion flickered across Sanji’s face, something like exasperation and fondness and anger, all coalescing together. “Idiot,” he murmured, but not unkindly. It was almost as gentle as when Sanji leaned forward to rest his forehead against Gin’s, their hands pressed between them. The point of contact made Gin’s entire body relax, lulled into it.</p><p>Then Sanji was pulling away, although not out of fear or lack of wanting. Simply because there were other matters at hand.</p><p>“Alright, let’s bandage your wounds,” he said. “We need to stem the bleeding.”</p><p>Gin let himself be stripped. They had seen each other in varying levels of nudity, although not like this. Not when Sanji had to dip a cloth into a bowl of water and clean Gin’s bloodied skin. Not when Sanji had to almost hug Gin to wrap the bandages around his chest, hair tickling his check. The feeling of Sanji’s fingertips on his chest, digging into his flesh, made nerves flutter in Gin’s stomach. He swallowed thickly. Sanji’s warmth and the nearness of him was so frighteningly there within Gin’s reach.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” Sanji asked, breath brushing over Gin’s skin.</p><p>“Yes.” It was a different sort of truth to what pain he was really feeling.</p><p>Nodding, Sanji was careful as he finished bandaging him. Pain was a distant thing. They had ripped bedsheets to use to dress the wound, and Gin could teach Sanji how to make an herbal poultice later, but it would do for now. Anything to just feel Sanji’s hands on him a little longer, the space between them intimately quiet.</p><p>“Oh, wait,” Sanji said, reaching for a clean bit of material. “You’re hurt here, too.” He dipped the cloth into the water and wiped it over Gin’s forehead, just above his eyebrow. It stung, although Gin wasn’t paying it much attention; he was watching Sanji—mapping the piece of hair that always curled over one of his eyes, or the slender curve that bridged the space between his jaw and neck. He wondered just how perfect it would be to kiss him there.</p><p>Gin looked up, catching Sanji’s gaze. Holding.</p><p>All Gin had to do was move closer, angling his face. Touch his lips to Sanji’s and feel the intake of breath that would make his body go completely still. All he had to do was lean forward and experience the way Sanji would fall into his orbitual pull. It was something they both wanted, had always wanted. It would be that easy, that simple.</p><p>Although, it wasn’t. Gin was still merely a guard, bleeding in the lap of a wayward prince. It was never going to be story of courtly romance, sung by weary travellers and laughing bards in bawdy inns. It couldn’t.</p><p>Sanji seemed to have noticed how Gin seemed to shut down, face going blank, and drew backwards. His touch disappeared from Gin’s skin. It was less a visceral reaction of hurt and disappointment, and more… resigned. Gin’s heart twisted, aching, but he didn’t dare to try and rectify this. It was a choice that he would keep making, only Sanji was just now beginning to realise that he had to stop hoping in something that wasn’t going to happen.</p><p>“You need to teach me how to hunt, Gin,” Sanji said suddenly, not looking at him. He coughed, started again. “If I had to go on without you, I couldn’t look after myself. It’s bad enough you won’t let me help with most of the chores.”</p><p>“You’re a prince, it’s not right—”</p><p>“I <em>was</em> a prince.” Sanji turned to glare at him, eyes flashing. “Germa’s gone. You’re all I have left, and I’m going to die if you don’t teach me how to survive. I’m no use to anyone as a prince, not anymore.”</p><p>Gin stared at him dumbly, because that wasn’t true. It remained as real as the raw, bleeding heart beating in his chest, or the snow that coated distant mountaintops. Sanji would always be Gin’s prince, his shining flicker of light in the darkness. That would never change.</p><p>But Gin couldn’t keep the image he had of Sanji safe and untainted forever. Out here, where armed mercenaries were looking for them and old men sold information like it was gossip, Gin couldn’t protect Sanji alone. It was a disservice to ever think that Gin being by his prince’s side would be enough. Or that Gin could let his feelings confuse that fact altogether.</p><p>“Alright,” Gin said. His eyelids fluttered to a brief close, finding respite, before he opened them, levelling Sanji with a serious look. “But I still get to call you ‘my prince’.”</p><p>Sanji smiled, laughter spilling out of him. “If that’s all it takes, then I accept.”</p><p>Strangely enough, the gnawing tension—that fear and worry—that had lived inside Gin for the past few weeks abated. He finally believed that maybe, just maybe, they could live free of the burdens that weighed them down. That misfortune didn’t lay in wait to take its revenge. That, hopefully, their future could be a happy one.</p><p>So, Gin started teaching Sanji how to take on equal shares of their workload. Woodchopping, fencing, fixing gaps in their roof, laying mortar and stone walls, armour and weapon care, even other menial things that Gin had taken unto himself to do, like exercising or brushing Diablo and doing laundry. Thankfully, Sanji had some rudimentary knowledge of hand-to-hand combat and seemed better at it then handling weapons. He even took to showing Gin how to cook, since he had never done more than eat what basic meals the barracks had served. Then how to water and tend their garden, and even a bit of finer sewing that Sanji’s mother had instilled into him as a vital skill.</p><p>The hardest task that Gin had to train Sanji in was hunting: to read the direction of the wind, notice the signs of dens or burrows, or reading the size or number of animals by their tracks. Gin’s injury made him a supervisor most of the time, which Sanji seemed pleased with. He was more keen to snap his fingers on the tight strings snares and forage for herbs than Gin could have imagined.</p><p>Sanji also seemed to like caring for Gin. It was not like Gin needed to be spoon-fed or kept on bedrest, but he did call for Sanji to help dressing or cutting up food sometimes. It was nice, in a way. There was few chances Gin had of knowing what it felt like to have someone concerned for his welfare; Gin was an orphan, and then he was a street-raised brat before he was finally a solider, too tough to trust anyone. His stomach fizzled with a bubble of nervous pleasure when Sanji checked his forehead for fever or rebandaged his shoulder. The pain was insignificant compared to what Sanji put him through.</p><p>Sleeping became harder. Usually because Gin had to lie on his back with Sanji sleeping on his outstretched arm or tucked up into him, a hand curled over his chest. The worst thing of all, though, was when Gin had to bathe again.</p><p>“Come on,” Sanji had cajoled, “you can’t do it by yourself, anyway.”</p><p>“I’m not a stinking invalid,” Gin had said, although he’d did as he was bid anyway.</p><p>Sanji sat Gin down on a low block of chopped wood near the well. He’d given Gin instructions to strip down to his underclothes, barefoot and nearly naked. Thankfully, it was warm enough without them. His dirty bandages were being boiled in a pot on the fire inside the cottage to disinfect them. Sanji had only convinced Gin to let him help when he showed Gin a crude bar of soap he’d made out of lard and crushed, fragrant herbs.</p><p>“Tip your head back,” Sanji said, and Gin did.</p><p>The water rushed over Gin’s crown, dripping down his back. The first feeling of Sanji’s fingertips running through his hair made his skin prickle with pleasure. It was easy to follow the simple orders in Sanji’s firm, clear voice—lift your arms, close your eyes, spread your legs—but only when Gin tried to ignore how close Sanji was, how his touch skated across his muscled thighs, or down the strong line of his back.</p><p>“Smells better already,” Sanji teased, rubbing the soap along Gin’s chest.</p><p>Gin snorted. “You’re the one cuddled up to me in bed, though.”</p><p>Sanji merely spared him a curious glance, mouth stretched into a close-lipped smile. “Lean back for me, Gin,” Sanji said, a little less surely than before, “I need to wash your hair.”</p><p>It was the last thing Gin would raise a protest to. The sensation of Sanji’s fingers massaging over his scalp made his body go lax, like candlewax melting late into the night. Gin hummed with contentment, the noise rumbling through him. Sanji was meticulous as he wiped the soapy lather away from Gin’s face with a cloth, scrubbing it through his hair. His knuckles brushed across Gin’s forehead like a benediction.</p><p>“I’m gonna wash it out now,” Sanji said as he poured another bucket of cool water over Gin’s head. It splattered against his legs.</p><p>Gin opened his eyes once Sanji’s ministrations stopped, frozen. “What’s the matter?” He asked gently, struggling to pull the question up out of his chest where it was lodged. It felt clunky in his mouth.</p><p>Only after a brief moment of hesitation did Sanji shake his head. He rubbed his arm over his face, sniffing as he did. “It’s nothing. I just—I’m glad you’re here with me.”</p><p>Gin’s tongue was tracing over Sanji’s name, but he couldn’t make it out. He could only say, “Me, too.” And his hand trailed up Sanji’s side, resting over his hip. He couldn’t reach any higher from his position.</p><p>Sanji’s smile was tremulous. It was the only warning Gin had to what Sanji was feeling before he was leaning forward, arms wrapped around Gin’s neck in an awkward half-hug. Gin emptied all the air in his lungs in one great exhale as he tried to return Sanji’s affections as best he could. Arm around his waist, face pressed into Sanji’s hair. Fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt so hard he thought it would rip apart.</p><p>They parted, sharing a quick, sheepish kind of smile. Life-threatening circumstances or nightly routines seemed to be the only place they were comfortable embracing. Anything outside of that was a completely new experience.</p><p>“Your wound is getting better,” Sanji said by way of diverting attention.</p><p>Gin was glad for the distraction. “I know; it’s still a bit tender, though.” He stood up as Sanji handed him a large towel to help dry himself off. A stray thought made Gin frown, considering how much it was worth speaking it aloud. </p><p>“We need to visit a nearby village soon.”</p><p>Sanji opened his mouth to respond, but he seemed to not know the words. The truth of the matter was plain and simple: they needed supplies. Their low stock of foodstuff they couldn’t grow or hunt was nearly exhausted, and Diablo required more than spindly branches of foliage to eat. Gin’s shoulder was also healing, although slowly, and with the very real risk of infection if Sanji wasn’t careful with making sure it was clean.</p><p>“What about the head-hunters?” Sanji asked.</p><p>“I’m good enough to use my sword, and we have the crossbow, too. You can even use that deadly kick you’ve knocked me into the dirt with a few times.” That made the taut strain of Sanji’s expression ease, slipping into fond amusement, but only barely.</p><p>“And if they do recognise us? If we can’t go back?”</p><p>Gin could only shrug his good shoulder. “Then we run. We wait and then we find another village, or another place to live.” The reality troubled Gin, and he could see that same conflict warring in Sanji’s face. “But we have to do what we must, my prince. Whatever it takes.”</p><p>“When do we go, then?” Sanji took the towel from Gin’s hands and pulled it over his head, ruffling his damp hair. It was a gesture that soothed the raw edge of Gin’s nerves. He wasn’t proposing something that would be without its difficulties.</p><p>“In about two weeks. I should be well enough to move then.”</p><p>Sanji didn’t say anything, he just silently brushed the hair back from Gin’s face and smiled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. the excitement of daring to change</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The trek to the nearby village was difficult; they didn’t want to risk taking Diablo and losing him to thieves or worse, so they had to walk.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The trek to the nearby village was difficult; they didn’t want to risk taking Diablo and losing him to thieves or worse, so they had to walk. Gin’s injury was steadily healing, but Sanji was worried it would suddenly take a turn for the worst, or if they were attacked again. It slowed them down, so Sanji had to take over most of the work. Setting new snares, foraging, mending clothes, rewrapping bandages, cooking, and whatever else needed to be done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Only a few hours into their journey, they passed their first set of travellers: a woman and her two girls, packs laden with supplies and weary faces drawn, but welcoming. Sanji and Gin shared a glance as they approached them. Thankfully, they’d decided how to handle these situations before they’d set out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hail and well met,” Sanji called out, waving an arm. “How goes it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mother looked at them with a wary glint to his eye, even if her daughters returned his greeting enthusiastically. Only when they noticed Gin was nursing a bandaged shoulder and Sanji was nothing but friendly, even dropping into a crouch to tell a joke that made the girls laugh, did their suspicion fade away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My husband and I have been keeping a safe distance away from all the commotion,” Sanji was saying, threading his arm through Gin’s. Touch between them was becoming an increasingly common fixture. “So, we haven’t heard much news of what’s been happening in the capital.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We escaped from there,” the woman said, smiling with a kind of grim amusement. “Once the fires and the mobs had raged, a rain came over the city. It put all those sparks out—until there was nothing left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin listened intently. He wished he could use his other hand to touch Sanji’s and call his attention to things that weren’t the demise of his own kingdom. Any distraction would be a blessing. Instead, Sanji’s hold on Gin remained steady—neither tight nor loose, simply there. Connected to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Princess Reiju was said to have been executed,” the woman continued, “although there was no such public event. If she really ran away—or died in prison—no one knows. All that I’ve heard word on is Goa beginning to seize control with the Vinsmoke family put to rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Gin blink, head jerking up. The kingdom of Goa was ruled by Crown Prince Portgas D. Ace, alongside his younger brothers, Sabo and Monkey D. Luffy. As scarcely as it was mentioned in the proceedings at court, Gin knew it was a prosperous place. A coastal country. After Ace’s father’s own execution years ago, he had been raised to refuse any involvement in potentially criminal or destructive pursuits, and thus had strongly rebuffed Germa’s ferocious wartime efforts. It had instead flourished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how are they faring?” Sanji asked, feigning something like casual interest. But Gin noticed the imperceptible quiver to his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surprisingly well, indeed. They’re siphoning in resources to feed and clothe the capital first, and soon there’s talk of expanding their efforts to rural villages and townships.” The hard set of the woman’s expression softened, saying, “So, now we can put some faith in someone maybe fixing the damage that King Judge dealt to our country.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were all walking together now, following the same worn path of wagons and carts snaking through farmland. The woodlands had started to open up, and the trees and shrubs had thinned down to grassy pastures and patchy crops. The sun seemed not to blaze as hotly here; the world was more noticeably paler, quieter, colder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>War times had taken so much from Germa. It had taken so much from Sanji, too. But, as Gin watched those two girls dance and run around their mother, telling Sanji how funny his eyebrows looked, Gin believed in a different thing. Hopefully now they could all take the time to heal. To finally live and thrive, free from Judge’s oppressive control.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their conversation dwindled at the sight of a far-off town. Ahead, a cluster of thatched-roof buildings rose up between criss-crossed fields of farmland. Unlike the city that Gin and Sanji had left, this one wasn’t thrown into disarray. As they got closer, they could see the tendrils of smoke drifting up into the air, could hear the murmur of conversation and the patter of footsteps. The warm, buttery scent of a bakery reminded Gin of when Sanji used to bake alongside Zeff in the palace kitchens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what about Prince Sanji? What happened to him?” Sanji asked without the courtesy of preamble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, the prince? Well, despite the rumours, I think he made it out alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We came across head-hunters in our forest a few weeks ago,” Sanji said. “So, wherever they thought he ran to, it doesn’t seem like they want to bring him back alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words cut through the atmosphere harder than before, pressing deeper. It was a dangerous feeling. Gin felt worry gnaw at his stomach at how closely Sanji was skirting around the truth. But they needed to know; their own safety depended on what they could find out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time since Sanji had taken Gin’s arm, he felt Sanji’s emotion through his touch: his tensed grip, muscles straining beneath their clothes. Gin leaned forward so he could glean a proper look at Sanji’s face as he walked. His mouth was set in a tight pinch, his eyes glassy with some kind of pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All this talk of his family—and himself—couldn’t be good for him. Gin wished they were alone, just so he could take Sanji into his embrace properly. Whisper assurances to him, banishing away the awful, heart-wrenching shadows that cast him in such darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” the woman said, seemingly unbothered by Sanji’s tone, “that may very much be right. Although I want to believe that he’s smart enough to escape the same fate that were dealt the Vinsmokes. He has Gin with him, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Gin blurted out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman glanced at him inquisitively. “Haven’t you heard? The kingdom is filled with songs and stories of Prince Sanji running away with his royal guardsman. They were in love for years, apparently. This just gave them the chance to live together, happily—like they wanted to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t much Sanji could do to stifle his laughter. Gin stared at him; his mouth pressed into a thin line. It was incredulous what the world thought of them now the capital had fallen. They hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>done </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything when they were still in the palace. Despite spending an inordinate amount of time together, and Gin always watching Sanji, and taking his elbow or waist when Sanji was drowsy with sleeplessness or ale, or Sanji feeding him whatever he had cooked with Zeff that morning—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin flushed at the multitude of memories that flashed through his mind. Maybe the rumours weren’t so unfounded, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is a very lovely story, isn’t it, husband?” Sanji asked, throwing Gin a smile that seemed to glow in how incandescently delighted it was. Joy always suited Sanji so well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The corner of Gin’s lips lifted into a curve. He could never quite help what emotions came to him when he was in Sanji’s presence. They were hopeless, uncontrollable things. He never could do much to protect himself from falling in love with Sanji, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It would make a fine romantic ballad,” Gin agreed, speaking lowly. “It does.” He feared if he spoke any louder the obvious affection in his voice would be his damnation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, their relationship had been made stronger by Gin’s injury and Sanji’s sudden uptake of other chores. They talked more in equal understanding of each other. That emotion—pressing up against Gin’s skin, inlaid into his bones and heart—still persisted, although Gin treated it with little concern. He could deal with nights spent sleeping with Sanji in his arms, or sitting beside him at their fireplace, or diligently tasting whatever new soups Sanji offered in the scoop of his ladle. It was more important to him that he and Sanji could trust and rely on each other now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was a matter that could easily be dealt with, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, when Sanji’s fingers tightened around Gin’s arm, Gin abandoned all pretences of caring for his still-tender wound. It didn’t matter. There was a fierce flash of pain in his shoulder as he reached over to lay his hand over Sanji’s. It was an action that earned Gin the sight of Sanji’s smile, their bodies pressing closer together as they walked. It was worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman and her children went their separate ways from Gin and Sanji once they had found the central market. Stalls had been set out, covered all over with swaths of fabric, barrels of food, sacks of wheat or bran, and all manners of common wares to tempt passers’ by. It was the liveliest place Gin had seen in weeks, even before the capital fell. People called out to each other warmly. Children laughed. It was loud, but in a way that was comfortable—a way that made Gin relax, tension ebbing from his frame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To replenish their supplies, they first needed to pad out their finances. They bartered the small animal skins that Gin and Sanji had hunted, and a few crudely made wooden carvings, too, fetching a good price for most of it. Enough to get what they needed: tools, lanterns, utensils, extra candles, scrolls of vellum and ink, winter clothing like woollen gloves and fur-lined hats and thick workman’s socks. Curative pastes, stinking poultices in jars, fresh bandages. The local physician said it was healing excellently and sent Gin away after forcing him to take a few dark herbal pills. Crossbow bolts and a whet stone, even a cheap dagger for Sanji.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After, they made quick stock of the food that was being sold. They needed the essentials of grain, butter, salt, spices, oil, and whatever else Sanji decided their kitchen was sorely lacking in. They found vegetable seeds and promised to come back for fruit tree saplings when they had the coin for it. A goat would be good for milk and cream, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the day had waned into a tepid afternoon, Gin and Sanji’s pack had grown heavy with supplies. They were nearly ready to return home. That was, until Gin caught Sanji staring forlornly at freshly baked pastries: piles of powdered doughnuts, raisin cakes, frosted buns. There was no need to contemplate what to spend the rest of his earnings on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Gin said, gesturing at the bakery window, “We’ll get something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing at Gin, Sanji almost seemed shocked. “Pardon?” He was in disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin leaned closer, whispering: “Pick anything you want, my prince.” The formal informality, the intimacy of the moment, all made Gin flush. He and Sanji really did seem like lovers in that moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, my most gracious husband!” Sanji announced once Gin had paid for the custard tart. Sanji wrapped an arm around Gin’s neck, kissing his cheek before taking a bit out of the pastry. The sound of his delighted moan was close to Gin’s ear, travelling down his spine. It was downright lewd to feel so strongly about food. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Gin breathed, watching Sanji closely. He could look uninterrupted at him for days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I most certainly am.” A curious glint in his eye, Sanji held out the tart. “Here, taste it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin—only because there was no other option to take—bit into the pastry. It was wonderfully sweet, yet the pastry was bland compared to how Sanji reached out after Gin had swallowed, a speck of custard from the corner of his mouth. Sanji’s finger slid over Gin’s rough stubble. It was like a match striking his skin, wanting to set fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment between them hung heavy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if we get a room at the inn for a night?” Sanji asked quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin frowned. “But we don’t have the money—” He stopped once he saw the teasing curve of Sanji’s mouth. It was a joke. Gin snorted, scratching at the short curls of hair over his forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, yes. And I can buy that white ermine coat that I saw in the tailors shop for you,” Gin continued, playing along with the charade. “You would look splendid in that pretty thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we’d buy the most expensive meal at the inn. With buttered vegetables and sautéed onions and dried figs, and the meat and fish dripping in gravy and herbs and spiced sauces. And for dessert—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Washed down with a tankard of golden ale,” Gin cut in, because Sanji would be left talking about food for hours if he was allowed. He didn’t want to spend any evening discussing the best ingredients used in pottages. At least Sanji didn’t seem to mind: that spark still glimmered in his eyes as he took Gin’s elbow again, leading him down the street. They hadn’t explored the rest of the village yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That does sound very lovely indeed,” Sanji said. He pressed closer into Gin’s side as they walked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to…” A cough caught in the back of Gin’s throat. “Do you want to come back here when we have more to sell? And we have enough to buy us some luxury?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like some proper winter boots?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like a good meal and lodgings.” Gin stopped for a moment, considering, before adding, “Or better kitchen knives for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sanji laughed, strands of hair falling over his face. He was the most beautiful when he looked happy. It was such an easier sight to bear than the strained smiles he had worn in the palace; this Sanji was unburdened, free to live his life as he chose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Gin, as foolish and heartsick as he was, thought that it was beautiful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, the lightness of their conversation—the playful joy of it—dimmed when they passed a community notice board. Usually, it was the place you stuck flyers for town meetings, or advertising jobs, and oftentimes contracts for people wanted by the law or worse. Much like the ones that were nailed to the board now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin and Sanji recognised their own faces inked onto paper. Gin’s portrait looked rough and menacing and was crudely drawn—barely recognisable. The bounty on him could maybe buy a nice quaint seaside cottage. Though Sanji’s picture was drawn in intricate detail, showing a fine-featured prince wearing a delicate circlet, like a precious, innocent thing lost in the capital’s uprising.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gin,” Sanji whispered. The name was a tremulous slip of a sound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin’s gaze flickered down to the price that was being offered for Sanji’s head. It was excessive, even for a prince and last remaining heir to Germa’s throne. Yet it seemed the Goa kingdom was sparing no expense in searching for Sanji.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Terror seized Gin, locking up his body. All the high-spirited cheerfulness that he had been coaxed into feeling during the day was extinguished like dirt over a burning campfire. It made sense why there were mercenaries travelling so deep into the woods on the word of an old peddler now. An overwhelming kind of anxiety made Gin’s pulse skitter, thoughts racing through his mind; it rebuilt all the internal walls he’d slowly let down, because he’d been stupid to think he could do otherwise. He’d brought Sanji here. He’d let Sanji be exposed to people who could recognise him, who could follow them back to their cabin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin had put Sanji in danger, and that very knowledge threatened to destroy him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to get out of here,” Gin said, already moving. The grip that Sanji had wrapped around Gin’s arm was unyielding. He let himself be ushered along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if—” Sanji struggled to speak—“What if someone saw us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to get away first. We can worry about that later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hopefully there’s no one on the road. People shouldn’t be travelling so late in the day, and we can make it back to the cabin by nightfall. Then we can—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gin</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sanji repeated, even louder. Quaking with the effort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In all their years spent together, in trading glances and words in public and private, in hearing all different versions of Sanji, Gin had never known him to sound so vulnerable. Gin stopped, turned around. He saw Sanji standing there, gripping onto the thin sleeve of his tunic. Sanji’s skin was pale, his head ducked down—it was the same way he used to react to his father’s harsh criticisms, his reprimands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was awful, watching Sanji recede into himself. How, even in death, Judge still had power over him. The only thing on Gin’s mind besides the endless chant of escape was how much he had to give Sanji the comfort he needed. To soothe away all the traces of hurt and fear still left inside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin pulled Sanji into a narrow alleyway between the village houses. “Here, it’s okay,” he said with a quiet kind of gentleness, unsure if he should touch Sanji yet. His hands hovered in the air. “No one’s acted out of sorts yet. We have no reason to be afraid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did we leave? They’ll always be after us, Gin. We should’ve stayed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Gin bit out. Even without his armour, he could still shield his heart from being wounded. He couldn’t bear to see Sanji suffer anymore. “I wasn’t going to let you stay there and die—your sister wanted you to escape. Reiju ordered us to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Sanji pushed into Gin’s arms, head tucked into his chest. His fingers gripped a tight fist of Gin’s tunic. The action was so starved for comfort that Gin could barely keep sadness from climbing up his throat and choking him. He ran a hand over the back of Sanji’s head, flattening down his hair. Whispering assurances.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She died for me, Gin,” Sanji confessed, voice scraped raw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She died so you could </span>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <span>, my prince.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what do I do now? What if they find us and it’s all for nothing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t ever let that happen,” Gin said in a faint breath, “for as long as I am by your side, I will keep you safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sanji finally raised his head. He looked straight at Gin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, when they were younger, Sanji’s eyes would glimmer with tears, but he’d never quite cry. He would simply wipe his hand across his snotty nose and be done with whatever he was feeling. He was the same now: he put himself to rights, blinking away the glassy sheen in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sanji had always been the strongest person Gin had ever known.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go home,” Sanji said. It wasn’t a bid to escape, or to run away, it was simply the only option left, the one that they both wanted more than anything: to get back to their quaint little cottage waiting for them in the woods. Their </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking Sanji’s hand in his own, they made their way to leave town. Not wanting to draw attention to themselves, Gin pulled Sanji’s hood over his head and tucked him under his arm. If they looked like two normal travellers, people would be less suspicious of them rather than a pair of sleuths sneaking about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet at every small burst of nearby conversation, every pointed glance their way, caused Gin’s stomach to roil with a sense of apprehension. His skin prickled, heartbeat thumping beneath his ribcage. But he was a trained soldier and guardsman, and he had a prince to protect. There was nothing that could keep Gin’s feet from striking the ground hard and fast, or keep his gaze from searching their surroundings for any signs of danger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thatched-roof buildings soon grew sparse, well-trod roads turning to narrow paths and open farmland. Where civilisation had once risen up out of stone and mortar, now it was forest trees and tangled bushes. Fear didn’t weigh so heavily on Gin’s shoulders anymore. Once the town was a speck of colour in the distance, Gin and Sanji stepped into the woodlands, navigating by the path of the sun and the memory of where to go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Gin asked once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sanji’s grip around him tightened. “I think so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cottage appeared and the sight of it was like a balm to a weary wound. The broken wall had been patched up. The garden had been coaxed into a full flush of growth. Diablo dozed in the holding pen around the back, content to rest in the late evening warmth before it turned cold. Gin heard Sanji exhale. The tension inside them dissipated, fading away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They rushed to get inside, desperate to seal themselves away, to have some form of protection, hidden away from the world. The door swung open in a wide arc as Gin pushed inside, a hand on Sanji’s lower back. And when he spun around to slam it shut, Gin had Sanji in his arms, bracketing him up against the door. The noise shook through the entire building, rattling hanging kitchen utensils. It was done: they were safe. For now, at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re okay,” Gin said, the words stumbling out of him. He could hardly believe it himself. “We made it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sanji stared at Gin like he cast adrift—as if everything he had tethering himself to this world was Gin. He swallowed, like he was trying to hold down words, or emotions, that had caught in his throat. Maybe it was because of how desperately they’d ran, or how much their pasts had seemed like a bad memory until now when they were faced with the awful truth of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we safe?” Sanji asked, even if the answer couldn’t be guaranteed. Even if the question itself wasn’t about their future, or about keeping the home they’d made.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin sighed. “Maybe. Hopefully.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching up, Sanji’s fingers brushed against Gin’s cheek. They were standing so near to each other that Gin could feel the heat of Sanji’s breath. His arms were braced on either side of Sanji’s head, and if he leaned forward, a knee between Sanji’s legs, their bodies would fit together. The thought made Gin’s stomach clench.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re with me,” Sanji admitted, cradling Gin’s face now. His thumb traced a line across his stubbled skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m your personal guard, after all. It’s my job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When that had once been a point of contention between them, a moot argument that they both insisted either side was wrong, Sanji merely smiled at Gin. It was a faint thing, but still precious. Still something that took Gin by surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re more than that, Gin,” Sanji said. Their closeness made what he uttered seem heavier, important, like they bore a physical weight that had the power to shatter Gin entirely. “Do you really think you don’t mean so very much to me, that you never have?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely not, my prince,</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what Gin should’ve said, but what came out was: “Do I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Gin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fear of being rejected, the worry that he would never be good enough, the constant, slow-burning desire for Sanji all coalesced together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gin knew in that moment didn’t matter: he just wanted Sanji. Nothing else existed except him, his prince, his best friend. His Sanji.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin knew that the only reason he wasn’t with Sanji was because of himself. And he didn’t care anymore. They could die tomorrow, be dragged back to the capital and torn apart, forced into imprisonment or worse. But they had this. They had each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were absolutely no consequences for Gin giving in and admitting that he had always, always been in love with Sanji.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gin was drawn into Sanji’s space; he had always needed to be the one to make the first move. Every single moment that he’d been with Sanji, Gin had been holding back, not letting himself act on what he felt or acknowledging his emotions at all. The want to reach out and touch him, to take him away from the palace—undo all the hurt that his family had wrought upon him—it was pushed down, ignored.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the few moments of Gin leaning forward into Sanji, in those brief seconds of anticipation, the very earth seemed to stop on its axis. Time stilled. The years of wondering, bearing the pain of yearning, of the missed glances and lingering words, had culminated in this. In Gin bridging the distance between himself and Sanji and finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, kissing him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that was it. Their positions as prince and royal guard, their feelings for each other, the countless number of moments that they shared together—it was meaningless, nothing compared to Gin feeling Sanji gasp against his lips. Gin kissed him more deeply, unbothered with being slow or chaste. He pressed his body to Sanji’s, pushing him back against the door fully. The burst of contact was bright and searing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Desire unfurled in Gin, heat spreading throughout him. His touch skated up Sanji’s sides before dropping down, wrapping around him, a hand slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. Gin’s fingers scraped across the muscle of Sanji’s back. It pulled a low, surprised noise from Sanji’s mouth, making a different kind of pleasure flush through Gin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you,” Sanji whispered, his arms winding around Gin’s neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me, too.” Gin could feel Sanji smile against him. Could feel the warmth of his skin, taste the baker’s sugar on his lips; he could take every part of Sanji and hold it, press it up against him. The knowledge made Gin coax Sanji’s mouth open with his tongue, wanting more of him. Demanding it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should we—” Sanji struggled to get out between kisses. A quiet moan trembled on his tongue as Gin’s fingertips traced the hem of his waistband. “Do you think it’s best we continue this in our bed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that an order?” Gin asked, teasing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sanji’s blush-pinked cheeks did nothing to soften his tone as he said, “Yes. And you would not refuse a prince’s commands, would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughter rumbled through Gin. A warmth radiated inside his core, like an ember that blazed hot and red, and he knew it would heat up Sanji from the inside, too. He was happy, ecstatic. By the way Sanji smiled so widely he squinted with the force of it, Gin knew he felt the same. There needn’t be any more awkward, stilted half-truths and misbegotten silences. There needn’t be hiding, preparing for something that had yet to come. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had waited long enough for this, anyway.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>only one chapter left!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. forging your own fate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gin pushed Sanji down gently onto their bed, like he’d been wishing to do for the past few years.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gin pushed Sanji down gently onto their bed, like he’d been wishing to do for the past few years. Although he’d once envisioned this happening in the plush lavishness of a prince’s chambers, or even rushed and desperate in more unsavoury places like the palace kitchens, a stall in the stable, even a brothel room if he had the coin. He’d never imagined it like this. Not in a cabin they’d found in the secluded woodlands, not amidst running from the collapse of Germa.</p><p>The thoughts stuck to the edges of his mind, but as Sanji reached up to slide his fingers into Gin’s hair, all of the distractions were erased from his mind. Gin was pulled down into a kiss, his body pressed together with Sanji’s. They had shed most of their clothes now, down to only trousers and thin linen shirts. All points of contact between them were bright bursts of sensation: chests flush against each other, Sanji’s arms around Gin’s back, Gin’s legs closed in around Sanji’s.</p><p>Their kiss was lazy at first, like a perfect dalliance of carefree lovers under sunlit skies. But the hard edge of their distress from earlier, and the anticipation of waiting for this for so long, meant that didn’t last. Gin eagerly tucked his hands into Sanji’s shirt, sliding it up to put his lips over Sanji’s nipple, his fingers twisting the other one. The moment his tongue flickered over the hardened nub, Sanji gasped, his grip digging into Gin’s back.</p><p>The sound travelled straight through Gin and down to his groin, pleasure flooding through his body as the heat prickled against his nerves. Sanji writhed against Gin. The pretence of control quickly became a thing of abject impossibility. Gin wanted this; he wanted <em>Sanji</em>.</p><p>The heady pulse of desire coiled inside Gin. He sucked on Sanji’s nipple until his prince moaned like a feeling had struck him so deep it hurt, trembling with the force of it. Arousal throbbed in Gin. His cock was hard against Sanji’s thigh.</p><p>Mind unravelling, breached open by the sheer incredulity of the moment, Gin’s head ducked down, mouth travelling over Sanji’s body. He kissed the full length of his chest, tracing down the dip of his abdomen to the soft curve of flesh around his stomach, reaching the line of fine hair above his waistband.</p><p>“<em>Gin</em>,” Sanji barely managed to get out, voice pitched high, before Gin had pulled his trousers all the way down. Sanji’s cock was long and pretty, with a flushed-pink head that Gin couldn’t resist flicking his tongue over. Sanji gasped, reflexively shifting on the bed beneath him.</p><p>“You alright?” Gin asked. His gaze flickered up to Sanji’s face to gauge his reaction. Yet the prince, whose skin was once so untouched by the sun it was almost sickly pale, blushed a deep red, his mouth open, and eyes heated with an emotion that Gin wanted to sink into.</p><p>“Yes.” Sanji’s breath came out shakily. “Of course.”</p><p>“Can I suck you off?”</p><p>Sanji blinked. He nodded with a slow carefulness, swallowing as he did it.</p><p>Gin didn’t waste any time before wrapping his hand around Sanji’s erection. He stroked until Sanji was quivering, stretched out to scrape his fingers through Gin’s hair, tugging it. Sensation shivered over Gin’s scalp. Sanji inhaled as Gin put his mouth over his cock cautiously, just to see how Sanji liked it.</p><p>Gin had fooled around before with men in his barracks—his predilections had never run to women, anyway—so he knew somewhat how to do this. His grip tightened around Sanji’s base, where Gin’s mouth couldn’t reach, as he started to bob his head, the flat of his tongue against Sanji’s hardened cock. He could make Sanji’s voice stutter, could make his back bow. The knowledge that he could do—was doing—this made excitement spark through Gin, wanting to draw as many reactions as he could out of Sanji.</p><p>“Gin, w-wait,” Sanji stammered at some point, pulling on Gin’s hair.</p><p>His mouth moved off Sanji’s cock with a slick sound. “What is it?”</p><p>“Can we—” Sanji’s chest was rapidly moving up and down— “can you just put it inside me already? I’m g-going to—it’s too much. I want you inside me.”</p><p>Desire settled at the base of Gin’s stomach. He nodded; his throat was parched dry. “Okay. Anything you want.”</p><p>“You’d do anything I’d want?” The question was startled out of Sanji, like he hardly believed it.</p><p>“Of course, my prince.”</p><p>Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Gin stretched up to kiss Sanji. There was not thought behind the action: it was all instinct. Their relationship had such defined layers, one laid over the other, that it felt dangerous to be doing this, pulling it all to pieces. Yet, they were both so desperate for it, movements fraught with an underlying tension that was threatening to snap apart.</p><p>They kissed hard, sloppy, losing the last shreds of any control they’d mistakenly believed they had. Gin moaned as Sanji pulled his knees up, feet resting on the bed, legs open for Gin to rest in between. Heat flushed in Gin’s core as his clothed erection rubbed against Sanji’s cock. Pleasure fluttered low in his abdomen. Gin rutted against Sanji indolently until he knew he had to move—had to start <em>something</em>—or they’d end this messily and far too quickly.</p><p>Gin pulled back to put his own fingers in his mouth to suck on them.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Sanji asked, hands running over Gin’s muscled arms. He was breathing shallowly.</p><p>“I need to get them wet,” Gin explained, taking his fingers out and reaching down to touch Sanji’s opening. “To do this.”</p><p>Sanji inhaled, eyes resting heavily on Gin. He nodded tremulously to give Gin one final bid of permission. And then Gin was rubbing his touch around Sanji’s hole, just to get him used to the feeling, before he was pushing inside tentatively. Sanji gasped, head thrown back against the pillow. Gin grinned.</p><p>It was a process that Gin would’ve liked to languish in—making Sanji tremble, pulling his voice out of him like a loose string tugged from a sleeve cuff—but arousal burned along the edges of his consciousness. Gin’s cock throbbed in his trousers. Although he knew that he’d always put Sanji before him; he’d want to serve Sanji in bed just as diligently as he did everywhere else.</p><p>Gin added another finger inside Sanji. He swirled them around, and then started to pull in and out, making each point of penetration a concentrated burst of contact that left Sanji gasping. At the sight, something strained in Gin. Then, barely able to grasp onto the fragments of his composure, he crooked his fingers. Sanji shouted out, writhing.</p><p>Biting down on a groan, impatience prickled just under Gin’s skin. But Sanji seemed to be under the same effect, sitting up, jostling Gin as he pulled him into a heady kiss. “Can you just, I don’t know,” Sanji whispered against his lips, “do it already?”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>Sanji nodded frantically, damp curls of hair stuck to his face.</p><p>Gin swallowed. He murmured a clumsy affirmative, kissing Sanji one final time in swift reassurance. Then pulled back to tug off his trousers and sit between Sanji’s open legs. Amusement sparked through Gin as he saw Sanji’s eyes drop down to Gin’s own cock and then back up again. Gin’s hands rested over Sanji’s knees, pushing them apart gently, watching emotions flicker in Sanji’s expression as he did it. Nervousness, excitement, anticipation—it all coalesced together.</p><p>Mouth twisting, a thought struck through Gin. He knew how to make Sanji more comfortable.</p><p>“Get on top of me,” Gin said.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Here.” Gin went to lay down on his back beside Sanji, patting his own abdomen to urge Sanji over. Breath caught on the sharp edge of Sanji’s teeth, but he did as Gin bid him.</p><p>“Like this?” Sanji asked, heat flushed high on his cheeks, trailing down his neck and chest. He was sitting as far down Gin’s abdomen as he could go, legs bent beneath him, Gin’s hard cock thrust up between Sanji’s ass. He leaned forward, hair brushing over his forehead.</p><p>“Yes.” Gin rubbed his hands over Sanji’s thighs and up his waist. The touch seemed to soothe Sanji’s nerves, massaging comfort into him. “I don’t trust myself right now.”</p><p>A smile flashed across Sanji’s face. He kissed Gin swiftly. When Gin thought he was settled enough, soft laughter filtering through the air, Gin reached behind Sanji to grab his own cock. He whispered tender words of assurance as he urged Sanji to sit up a little and positioned the head of his cock at Sanji’s entrance. A whole-body shudder made Sanji tip his head back, pushing his ass into Gin’s touch, feeling Gin’s erection slide between the mounds of his cheeks.</p><p>And then Sanji moved, sitting up and down, letting himself slide onto Gin’s cock. He exhaled in a great, quivering breath. Gin had spat in his hand and rubbed it over his erection to make it as wet as it could be, but it was still torturously slow as he sheathed himself in Sanji. A groan was wrenched out of Gin’s mouth as his balls brushed Sanji. The sheer, overwhelming sensation enveloped him—the feeling of being inside Sanji was unlike any other.</p><p>“Gin,” Sanji said, communicating the all-consuming ecstasy of what he felt. They had been stripped down to their most intimate selves and put back together. Sharing in the most tender of moments. “So, this is what it’s like to be with you.”</p><p>Gin coughed. “You’ve thought about me? Before?”</p><p>“Haven’t you thought about me?” The smile Sanji gave him was dangerous, all lust-blown coquettishness. It should’ve warned Gin for what was going to happen next, because then Sanji started to <em>move</em>.</p><p>Slow rolls of his hips, of Sanji experimenting with the sensation of it. Gin’s fingers clenched against Sanji’s hips, feeling the flex of muscle and bone beneath his touch. He sucked in a shaky gasp. Confidence solidified in Sanji’s expression at the sight of Gin beginning to waver. Sanji tried to find a steady rhythm, wanting to draw out the experience of Gin sliding in and out of him. Slick, wet sounds filled the room.</p><p>Pleasure ached at Gin’s core. He could feel it encroaching on his awareness, the large build of arousal that was reaching its high, teetering peak. To try and distract himself from climaxing embarrassingly early, Gin wrapped a hand around Sanji’s cock. A low moan reverberated through Sanji’s body. Gin wanted to grin but found he didn’t have the control for it. Instead, he stroked Sanji fast, attempting to match Sanji’s own pace as he rutted against Gin.</p><p>“Does it feel good?” Gin asked, the breath knocked out of him.</p><p>Judging by the colour brushed over Sanji’s cheeks, and the way he rode Gin like he was chasing that untamed beast of desire, it was enjoyable. Sanji bent forward, hands coming down to rest flat against Gin’s chest. Sweat dropped off his forehead.</p><p>“Yes,” Sanji gritted out. “Of course, it does.”</p><p>Happiness rose up inside Gin, and a little bit of self-inflated pride, too. Desire spread through him like wildfire, pumping white-hot in his veins, and he ached for more. To see Sanji come apart. Gin’s hands returned to curl around Sanji’s waist, digging into his flesh, before Gin used the firm hold that he had to thrust up into Sanji.</p><p>A sharp cry was wrung out of Sanji’s mouth. But it tapered off into a kind of blissed-out moan, fingers flexing against Gin, legs straining with tension. Gin continued to fuck up into Sanji in quick, passionate movements, pulling those sounds of pleasure from his lips. Arousal stirred within him, tightening. Gin couldn’t restrain how much he felt, simply focusing on the sight of Sanji’s cock bobbing against his stomach, the way he tried to move with Gin, his whole body shaking.</p><p>It was sudden, the orgasm that swept through Gin. There was so much of Sanji, of his emotions that had been restrained, tucked away, that it all escaped with such a furious force it left Gin wiped clean of all thought. His thrusts became erratic, and Gin pulled Sanji down onto him hard one final time, the sensation of it echoing to the edges of his body, pulse quickening. Pleasure bled into his every being as Gin felt himself climax, cock twitching, come spilling inside Sanji.</p><p>Gin blinked. His entire self was warm, tingling with the aftershocks. But Sanji was still sitting on top of him, trying and faltering to set a new pace, his limbs quivering. Gin’s gaze drifted down to his flushed cock, seeing pre-come leaking over his veined length. A faint echo of arousal flooded through Gin again.</p><p>“I apologise,” Gin said, hardly believing he’d acted so green; a few mere minutes in bed with Sanji and he’d already come? Embarrassment flushed high and hot on his face.</p><p>Sanji smiled. “It’s okay.” His voice seemed light, whispery.</p><p>“Are you getting tired? We can change positions, if you want.”</p><p>After a moment, Sanji nodded. Gin wanted to make Sanji truly experience the pleasures of lovemaking, not just indulge in his own emotions and desires, and so he was quick to move. He urged Sanji onto his hands and knees and then closed the distance behind him, resting on his knees. Gin’s grip curled over Sanji’s backside, almost roused to full hardness at seeing Sanji lean down, his ass spreading open beneath Gin’s touch.</p><p>Gin sucked in a gasp, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “Good?”</p><p>Leaning over Sanji’s back, Gin kissed between his shoulder blades, one of his hands reaching down to grasp Sanji’s erection. He stroked Sanji, littering kisses over the places he could reach—neck, back, arms—and rutting against him absently, cock sliding along the underside of his ass, brushing his balls. It stoked the embers of emotion inside both of them to a full blazing fire.</p><p>When Sanji was starting to push back against Gin, eagerly reaching for him, Gin drew away, clumsily grabbing his throbbing cock and slipping it back inside Sanji. He choked on a groan as he bottomed out, feeling his own come leak out of Sanji. And, honestly, that made his breath stutter in his chest, a strange possessiveness aching through Gin.</p><p>Sanji moaned, face pressed into the bed. Gin began to thrust into Sanji, slow, shallow movements, just to get him used to the feeling of it again. His fingers traced the line of his back before settling his grip around Sanji’s hips, holding him in place. Gin panted as he fucked into Sanji. Just having him bent over, taking all that Gin gave him, was erotic in itself.</p><p>He was fucking the prince and lost heir to a fallen kingdom.</p><p>The raw edge of pleasure twisting through Gin, tangling his insides in a complicated knot made him groan. His hips snapped forward, startling a surprised, helpless noise out of Sanji. Gin maintained that pace, pulling back to slam his cock into Sanji, hands crooked into the bend of his waist. Noises of skin meeting skin melded together, echoing in the room.</p><p>“Gin,” Sanji whined. “That’s—I’m close.”</p><p>The corner of his mouth hooking into a grin, Gin reached for Sanji’s cock, just to coax him to fall headfirst into the final throes of passion. He pumped his fist, fast and tight. Sanji shivered against him, crying out weakly. Gin spoke gentle reassurances, hoping Sanji felt good, that this made him just as mindless with pleasure as it did Gin. That it was everything they’d been dancing around, daring not to believe in. Countless moments lost, emotions dismissed, and all the missed opportunities for the time they could’ve spent together, happy.</p><p>Sanji was on his hands and knees, shaking, trying to meet every one of Gin’s thrusts. The sight made pleasure slice into Gin, rising up in him. His grip tightened around Sanji’s cock, pulling his ass back hard onto his erection. Sanji moaned suddenly, back bowing and his fingers clutching the sheets desperately. Gin felt wet strings of come splatter over his hand. He fucked Sanji through his orgasm, listening to how his voice spiralled out. Watching how he perfectly came undone, unravelled.</p><p>Then, those threads of what Gin had been feeling, everything that was building inside him, came to a sudden point. Pleasure crested, crashing down, coming apart. Gin shuddered as his cock throbbed, another wet, hot pulse of come spurting out inside Sanji. A soft gasp slipped out of Sanji’s mouth as he felt Gin climax. He clenched down around Gin, drawing another ragged noise out of Gin.</p><p>Gin was overwhelmed—the points of contact between him and Sanji were heated, the sensation of being inside the person he’d loved for years suddenly too much for him to bear. It was the culmination of all the time they’d yearned to be together, the waiting and wanting what they thought could never happen. Now, they were as close as they could possibly be. Emotion swelled inside Gin, so great that it was tinged by sadness; this very moment was so infinitely precious to him.</p><p>Sanji was the greatest thing in Gin’s life. He was the flicker of light in the dark that had kept him grasping onto the vague shape of strength, forcing him to survive through all the agony he’d faced. He was Gin’s reason for living.</p><p>The weight of it all pressed down on Gin’s shoulders, crushing his chest. He bent over and pulled Sanji down onto the bed with him, his cock slipping out. Gin’s arm—wound around Sanji’s waist—tugged him back into the natural curve of his body. They were damp with sweat, spent, and recovering from the shivering high of climax. Gin nuzzled into the back of Sanji’s neck, feeling him breathe deeply. Warmth spread through his core, gentle.</p><p>“I love you, Gin,” Sanji said in a hazy, blissed-out hush, like he could barely keep it inside him.</p><p>Gin smiled, joy spread through him like sunlight, banishing all the darkness inside him. “Of course, my prince,” he couldn’t help but say.</p><p>After a moment of processing what Gin had said, Sanji slapped Gin on the arm playfully, laughing. “I hardly think that’s something you should be saying after fucking me. Especially as your ruler.” It was a jest—Sanji wasn’t the prince of Germa anymore, but Gin would still do anything for him.</p><p>It was not the time for Gin to admit that Sanji would always be his prince, forever someone Gin would be devoted to as a knight and royal guard. Now was for the intimacy of moments shared in silence, of Gin imprinting a kiss onto Sanji’s skin like a blessing, and finally—<em>finally</em>—speaking Sanji’s name into existence.</p><p>“I love you, too, Sanji.”</p><p>Sleep came easily after that, enveloping them in a warm, quiet nothingness.</p><p>The next day, Gin greeted Sanji like a lover. Kisses fluttering against his shoulders, adoration pressed into his flesh. Admittedly, they were a bit lax in cleaning up and spent a good portion of the morning washing, getting accustomed to each other’s closeness under the rush of water pulled from the well, soap rubbed along each other’s bodies.</p><p>Gin treasured all that Sanji was and took extra care to look after him, delighting in how Sanji seemed to flush under the attention. It was a different kind of pleasure than sex altogether; the boundaries between their casual intimacy had completely faded away now: Gin could touch Sanji’s neck, his wrist, his lower back. He could press his lips to the underside of Sanji’s jaw and whisper into his ear. The words spilled out of him like an ink quill pressed too hard against a page, saying everything he had held inside for years. Sanji took that confession and seemed to fold it into himself, keeping it safe in his heart. Gin didn’t feel so guilty for having those emotions, not anymore, and that aching nothingness in him started to fill with each action, with each moment he spent with Sanji.</p><p>Days bled into weeks, and those feelings didn’t abate. The warmth of the sunlight had never seemed so bright, so peaceful. The anxiety that wound inside Gin had begun to ease, being chased away by each morning kiss Sanji greeted him with. He could slide into bed with Gin and embrace him under the covers of fur and the chill of the air. Together they tended the garden, foraged for herbs and vegetables, hunted, washed, mended, and cooked.</p><p>It was a good life. It was exactly what Gin had wanted, had dreamed about. Except, now, it was real. Sanji was always within Gin’s reach, and he wasn’t weighed down under the Vinsmoke legacy. He was a normal man who spent early mornings baking and sometimes hummed under his breath. This Sanji—not the prince or the heir, but <em>Sanji</em>—looked forward to what was to come. His whole face seemed to light up when he saw Gin, and he laughed more, and he wasn’t so darkly shaded in by his past.</p><p>They were happy.</p><p>Until one brisk midday, Gin heard Sanji call his name from outside, at the front of their cabin. He sounded perfectly measured, speaking with a careful slowness.</p><p>Fear striking through Gin, he pushed open the front door.</p><p>They were three young men standing across from Sanji. They weren’t dressed in the padded leather of mercenaries, or simple commonfolk, or anything like that. No, they were very clearly royalty. Finery that shone in the gold thread and silk of their princely raiment, and crowns pressed over their brows.</p><p>One boy, the tallest, stepped forward. He was hardly a few years into manhood, with freckles splashed across his face and skin unlined and ruddy with that youthful joy. A gold crown rested over dark hair, looking far too large for him. Gin wondered if the weight bore down heavily on him like it had Sanji. Although Sanji had never ascended Germa’s throne, this boy, Portgas D. Ace, was effectively ruling his country, yet he was the Crown Prince of Goa in title. It was a complicated matter of his father’s execution and meddling of other monarchical politics that prevented him from taking his rightful place, but everyone knew him for what he was.</p><p>Ace was the King of Goa. Beside him was Sabo and Monkey D. Luffy, his little brothers and princes alike.</p><p>“My liege,” Gin said, bowing his head. At his side, Sanji stiffened, following Gin’s example in an awkward kind of way.</p><p>Sanji had never needed to defer to anyone. It wasn’t normal for him to follow the proper proceedings in court, anyway. Judge had forced Sanji to submit to his iron-fisted rule through instilling fear into him, and then, in his madness, had erased any ideas of rebellion. There was no option of negotiating with a tyrant, let alone a lunatic.</p><p>“Sanji!” Someone shouted. Gin barely had the time to tip his head and catch sight of the small figure barrelling towards them.</p><p>It was Prince Monkey D. Luffy, and though Gin had caught only glimpses of the youngest prince when the boy had visited Germa all those years ago, he recognised him in an instant. He was smaller and wirier than his brothers, with messy dark hair, and a wide smile that seemed to stretch past natural proportions.</p><p>Luffy threw his arms around Sanji’s neck, greeting him with an unmatched enthusiasm. He had been a friend to Sanji. A good enough one that Gin had almost been afraid that Sanji would be stolen away by the promises of adventure and freedom. Yet… he had stayed, despite the offer Luffy had probably made. Possibly because Sanji was terrified of defying his father, or leaving his homeland, or abandoning the people like Zeff and Gin who relied on him—those were the reasons Gin believed he had stayed. Or, maybe Sanji was just too kind to leave and cause any trouble, maybe. Gin didn’t know.</p><p>“Sanji, how are you? What are you doing out here? Who’s your friend? Are you having fun? Do you like it?” Luffy asked in a non-stop barrage of questions, like cannonballs launched one after another.</p><p>“I’m well, Luffy,” Sanji’s voice was muffled as he tried to disentangle himself from Luffy’s embrace. “And I’m happy to see you, too.”</p><p>Ace coughed, and all their gazes flickered over to where he stood, flanked by Sabo.</p><p>“Why have you come here?” Sanji was speaking in the flat, measured tone that he’d adopted inside the walls of the palace. “Why have you put out a bounty for me?”</p><p>The atmosphere was tense, waiting for the blade of the guillotine to fall. Luffy ducked out from Sanji’s embrace to return to his brothers’ side. There was a slight flicker of emotion in Ace’s face, but Gin could find nothing in his eyes or the shape of his mouth that would give away the intention of this visit. Ace really had become the king that Goa needed, despite his youth, inexperience, and the crushing weight of his father’s legacy.</p><p>“We needed to find you,” Ace said.</p><p>Gin watched Sanji inhale, bracing his shoulders. “Why?” Sanji asked.</p><p>“Germa doesn’t have to die—instead we can forge it into a new country,” Ace explained, chin tilted high. It was a lofty proposition. “It would be strong. It would be ruled by a man who had known suffering and was not hardened by it, instead surviving because of how kind he remained. You can be the king your father never was, Sanji.”</p><p>Sanji blinked, his expression wiped blank. Beside him, Gin felt his chest concave, crushing the awful, dwindling hope that had kindled inside his chest. It was too good to be true, wasn’t it? Sanji could never love him so freely. Their lives weren’t meant to be as simple and peaceful as they had been out here, with only each other for company. It couldn’t happen.</p><p>“We are asking if you want to return to the capital with us!” Luffy leaned into Ace’s side, phrasing the offer in simpler terms. Like that could entice Sanji into considering accepting.</p><p>“So, Sanji, what’s your answer?” Ace titled his head to the side.</p><p>The reaction was instant, shocking everyone there: “No. I will not.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Sabo blurted out.</p><p>In the same instant, Luffy barked out laughter.</p><p>If Gin hadn’t been staring at Ace, refusing to look at Sanji and see the reply in his face, he would’ve missed how Ace’s mouth flickered with the ghost of a smile. But only for a moment. The painful tangle of emotions inside Gin eased, though, once he let Sanji’s words settle over him. He really had no reason to doubt him, not after what they’d been through.</p><p>“Is that so?” Ace asked instead, straightening to his full height. Sunlight glinted off his crown.</p><p>“Let Germa fade away into nothingness.” There was a finality to what Sanji said, like this was the decree of a great king before his death and, in a way, it was. The Vinsmokes would never rule again. “I don’t care to inherit the legacy my family has left behind. It’s rotten, anyway. You can do with it whatever you want—as long as you promise it will be good.”</p><p>Ace nodded. “I can accept those terms.”</p><p>“Tell me, though… Do you know where Reiju is? What happened to her?”</p><p>Memories of Sanji’s sister standing on the balcony of the palace, bloody polearm gripped in her hands, flashed through Gin’s mind. He had thought she’d died in the uproar, but he didn’t know. The woman was far more resourceful than she’d ever let on.</p><p>“Rumours are that she was killed. But if the princess managed to slip out from the chaos, escaping to another country under their king’s protection, then I would believe it.” Ace’s gaze glimmered as he spoke, shining with mirth.</p><p>Sanji’s whole body seemed to relax as he exhaled, relief blowing through him. “You have my gratitude.” The question of Reiju’s fate had weighed heavier on him than Gin had ever known. Of course, it did. She was his saviour, too.</p><p>The moment between them all stalled. No one had expected the end to be so anticlimactic, that their fates would be decided in a few words of shared dialogue.</p><p>“Here, wait,” Sanji said, holding a hand out to the trio of Goa’s princes before disappearing inside the cabin. Gin lingered awkwardly at the front, trying to appear composed. He hoped it wasn’t obvious what he and Sanji meant to each other. That he’d given up the crown to spend the remainder of his days living with his former knight and guard, sharing his bed.</p><p>“Will you protect him?” Luffy asked.</p><p>The question was sudden, but when Gin’s gaze slid to the youngest prince, he saw that he was firm in his conviction. Luffy needed a worthy answer. He knew Sanji deserved it and would fight tooth-and-nail for it. That rigid belief made Gin swallow down his pride, voicing the words that were solidified deep inside him.</p><p>“Of course.” Gin could hear the plain truth ringing out in what he spoke. “I will always be Sanji’s knight, and I will endeavour to keep him safe and happy for as long as I’m alive.”</p><p>Luffy paused, and then nodded minutely.</p><p>At that moment, Sanji materialised beside him again, carrying a fine golden circlet. He walked up to Ace and presented the offering—of peace, or silence, Gin didn’t know—out to him.</p><p>“If I give you this, you have to promise that you will never come looking for me again. It will be proof that I was lost in the uprising. Prince Sanji, heir to the throne of Germa, is dead.”</p><p>Ace was unfazed by the conditions that were set. “I agree. Germa is gone, and only Goa will remain to rule these lands, and you will be free to live as you please.”</p><p>A thought brushed at the edges of Gin’s mind. He’d barely processed what he’d wanted to do before appearing at Sanji’s side, unpinning the large red earrings from his ear. “Take these, too. It might help prove that I died with you.” Gin caught the sight of Sanji’s face, something conflicted warring in his eyes. “We can always buy more, anyway,” he whispered.</p><p>He handed the earrings over to Sanji, who stared at them in his palm for a few moments. His expression was unreadable. Gin’s mind wondered to what this truly signified for them—a complete breaking away from Germa—although he didn’t need to doubt if it was worth it. Sanji knew that, too.</p><p>“If anyone asks about Gin, show them these,” Sanji said, holding out the earrings to Ace and the princes of Goa. His tone was even, determination solidified in the hard lines of his face. He was as prepared as Gin to relinquish their obligations to the Vinsmoke throne.</p><p>“That sounds reasonable to me.”</p><p>Their negotiations seemed to have reached a natural conclusion. Gin was desperate to reach out and touch Sanji, soothing over whatever pain he felt. Yet, he could only remain still by his side as Luffy hugged Sanji again, arms winding around him. They shared a few words of sociable conversation, leaving Gin wondering what friends they could’ve been in another life. What adventures they could’ve shared.</p><p>But they were drawn to their different worlds, their different families. Sanji would remain with Gin in the woodlands, tending to their cottage garden and dealing in the pleasantries of a simple life. They would catch pieces of stories and news of the country that Goa had taken over, seeing it flourish with growth of trade and a ruler who was intent on healing the scars Judge had left. Ace would be a capable leader. Sabo would help, and Luffy would be nearby, and they would remain as strong together as they ever did apart.</p><p>That comforted Gin—the knowledge that they had each other and wanted to do better.</p><p>Sanji and Gin bid their goodbyes to their visitors. Although, when the three princes had turned around, ready to drift into the green depths of the forest, Sanji stepped forward. Gin didn’t know what he meant to do, because Sanji stopped himself halfway instead.</p><p>Looking at Gin, he smiled. “It’s over, Gin.”</p><p>There was nothing Gin could say, so instead he embraced Sanji, arms gripping him tight. Sanji nuzzled into him. The moment seemed to pause, the entire world halting on its axis, as Gin and Sanji just held each other. Germa, Judge, the experiments and suffering and pain—all of it didn't have the power to torment them anymore.</p><p>They were free.</p><p>“Let’s go home,” Sanji said.</p><p>“Of course, my prince.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope everyone enjoyed reading this!!! twas a fun little piece to make up for the absolutely underrated gin x sanji ship &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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